Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first sign of what lay ahead, though no one would realize it for quite some time, would be the flickering of lights in Stark Tower. 

Not long and it didn’t happen again, but certainly noticeable for a building that runs entirely on yet to be fully explored as a new energy source, the Arc Reactor. 

After a news segment ran on the incident, many promises from the CEO (former and current) that it would never happen again, a few checks on the wiring...the flickering would be forgotten. 

Leaving the residents unaware of the many small yellow spiders, alien to this dimension, now happily stuffing themselves on this new source of electric power. 

The next sign was the shaking of certain subway tunnels. Not more than usual, and certainly not noticeable for those using the subways themselves. 

The shifting of Rock and Ground Pokemon, as they noticed new avenues to travel. Pathways opening up to strange new grounds. 

Subways of both New York City and Nimbasa suffered this situation, at the same time. 

Not that either reality would know it. 

Not until the last sign. 

The last sign took the form of a shredding of space, a pop in the air near the edge of a tunnel. A gateway between two very different worlds. 

One side of this new rift noticed nothing, still getting used to a world where superheroes and aliens coming from the sky could almost be seen as a possibility. Certainly not prepared for a sudden interdimensional rift deep underground. 

On the other...

“This is verrry interesting.” A gloved hand lifts a lantern higher, to examine the shimmering blue tear. “Wouldn’t you say so, brother?”

“It looks different than such did in Hisui, but similar enough to that rift in the sky. That blue...” A frown becomes more pronounced. “Something must be done before the damage worsens and threatens the main lines.”

“Agreed.” 

Barely two weeks since the Chitauri attacked, since Loki got away with the Tesseract, and there’s already something else needing to be done. 

Why wouldn’t there be?

Steve Rogers is almost grateful for it. Because having something to do with the rest of the Avengers means he doesn’t have to stop long enough to think. 

(His world is gone.)

“Hey, Capsicle? Hello?”

Tony. In his Iron Man suit. Right. 

Steve shakes his head. “What is it?”

“Checking in. Seeing if you’re still there.” The gold mask tilts off to the side, eyelights bright in the dimness of their current location. 

The New York City Subway underground tunnel system.

According to reports that S.H.I.E.L.D had passed on to them, these tunnels were now filled with monsters. Monsters like the Chitauri wandering around to cause random havoc. 

Definitely not the Chitauri, reports have hurried to add. Not humanoid enough. 

That’s...good. 

Steve has had enough of cleaning up after an alien invasion for a lifetime. Several lifetimes. 

Best case scenario for this? Nothing more than a gas leak, as one agent put it. 

The easiest solution would be to find if someone was behind the monsters and stop them, and after what happened with Loki, Steven thinks that it’s the most likely option. 

Especially since as far as he knew, New York sewer gators weren’t real. 

Aren’t real?

“Are these the alligators?” Steve asks Clint in an undertone. 

He still doesn’t know the man very well, hasn’t really gotten a chance to fight besides him outside the Chitauri battle, but he might be the best option to ask of the people here. 

Tony will most likely mock him, Natasha might just not answer for her own amusement, and Bruce isn’t currently here. 

(Don’t want to risk a Hulk smashing through important underground foundations.)

Clint shivers at the question. “Fuck. I hope not.”

That didn’t...exactly answer his question.

Screaming up ahead. 

Crashing. 

Steve steadies his shield and rushes ahead with the rest. 

People are running and screaming to get away, when the Avengers arrive. 

The subway terminal is a mess. Rocks and wreckage...it looks like right after the Chitauri attacked, bringing down the city around them. 

In the center of it all...

There is a man with gray hair. 

He’s wearing what’s clearly a uniform, a spotless white coat and hat with red stripes. The other most clear feature about him is the unnerving wide grin on his face. 

A grin that stays despite the disaster going down here around him. 

Clearly the culprit. 

(Who else would act like that in the middle of this? )

“You do not have good safety procedures.”

The man’s voice is still. Stiff. 

Also not a good sign. 

Tony takes the lead. As he usually does. 

“Hey, you should surrender, old man.” Tony says. 

The grin takes a sharper edge. Almost threatening. “I am not old!” 

A gloved hand goes to the man’s belt. Everyone flinches, readying themselves for a weapon. But instead the man takes out...a strange red and white orb. 

From next to him, Steve feels Clint shift and mutter, “You have to be kidding me-”

The ball is tossed through the air. A red flash as the man steadies his hat and points in their direction.

From that flash, comes out a feathered dinosaur. Covered in yellow and blue feathers with red skin. 

Steve tightens his grip around his shield.  

“I am Emmet. And I like winning more than anything else. You will not stand in my way.”

Contrary to Emmet’s expectations, none of his opponents throw out a Pokemon of their own. Despite his clear challenge. 

Instead they move to combat Archeops themselves. The man with the strange round shield (that is not even an Aegislash!), the flying armor (that may or may not be Pokemon. Probably not), and a man with a bow and arrow. 

Emmet has not seen a bow and arrow in his life before, not outside of historical photos!

And there was a fourth, wasn’t there? With red hair. 

Where is she?

He surveys the battleground, confident that Archeops can handle them as he does. 

Hm. 

The redhead woman is sneaking in his direction. Towards him, not his Pokemon. 

In the past, Emmet likely wouldn’t have noticed that movement at all. Now...

(“In Hisui, very few Pokemon would follow the rules of battling. Many would try to ambush a stray passenger while their Pokemon was occupied.” Gray eyes are steady, directed near his chin. Looking so much more tired than they used to. “I will not have that happen to you.”)

Emmet reaches down to pull out another Pokeball to release Eelektross to defend him. Now this isn’t quite a Doubles battle, but if they aren’t following any rules- he’ll have to do his best. 

What a pain! 

Eelektross hums. The Electric Pokemon’s presence redirects the redhead to different rails, farther away rather than closer. Just what Emmet wanted. 

“That is against the rules,” he sternly informs them. “Stay behind the yellow line!”

“What’s with the train terms?!” One shouts, the one with a bow and arrow. Trying to aim them at a too quick Archeops. 

“We fought Reindeer Games, with those Point Break’s ‘thees’ and ‘thous.’ You think a weirdo obsessed with trains is worse than that?” From the flying armor. 

That-

“Wow. You are verrry rude.”

Now, Emmet is used to dealing with customers of all kinds on the trains. Many of them irate, others simply stupid. With battlers, it’s far more rare to field a purposefully disrespectful one because only the strong make it to face him and his twin. Very few of the strong are cruel in purpose, due to their strong bonds with their Pokemon. 

The exceptional few...well, Emmet is always more than happy to show them the error of their ways. 

Anyway. Attempted personal attacks like this? 

Don’t happen. Shouldn’t be happening. 

You know what. He is bored. Done with this. Time to end this battle with a strong victory. 

Emmet hates to do this to any subway tunnel, but these aren’t his. So typical safety standards...might not apply. 

“Archeops, use Earthquake!”

Eelektross curls about him as Archeops obeys his command. Brings rocks crashing down and his enemies retreating with loud cries as the tunnel shakes. 

Emmet turns on his heel to smartly march down the tunnel without a look back. Moving back to where he came from that rift. 

He wanted a proper battle! Not whatever this mess was!

Emmet needs to get back to Ingo. Investigating what was going wrong with the subway. Not dealing with these rude strangers who don’t fight with Pokemon. 

(He will not vanish on Ingo. Never.)

“What poor battlers,” he remarks to his Pokemon which both snort in agreement. Archeops ruffles his feathers and hisses, a clear complaint on the strangers’ lack of anything when it came to Pokemon battling. 

Since those strangers are gone now...

Emmet decides to recall Archeops but keep Eelektross out. Safety precautions, in strange terrain. Never know what resides in these tunnels, similar but different from his station. 

Like those rogue Boldore he had to catch earlier, to keep them from harming any passengers in the area. None of the nearby people seemed to know what to do, only panicking in a way that aggravated the wild Pokemon. Causing them to unleash attacks that damaged the tunnels. 

Tunnels that should be properly reinforced against moves like Earthquake or Rock Slide. In case of misfired attacks and wild Pokemon. 

But they are not, for some reason. How strange. How wrong. 

He taps at his XTransceiver. The device still appears operational despite his unknown surroundings, ringing up Ingo. Good. 

A wave of relief sweeps through him once he sees his brother’s frowning face answer. 

They are not separated. 

(Never again.) 

Next to Ingo, there’s a-

He goes off script. Just for this. 

“Another one?!”

Anna Marie shivers in the dark. 

How did she get here? She...doesn’t know. 

Only that her clothes are torn, her body aches, and her gloves are missing. 

Her gloves are missing. 

She stares blankly at her hands, bare for the first time in months. 

“No, no...” This can’t be happening. Not when she’s been so careful!

Light. Coming towards her. 

She flinches, reaching up to cover her eyes. 

There’s a man in a black coat. He’s frowning as he looks her over, lifting the lantern in his hands just a little higher. Away from her face. 

“Miss, are you alr-”

She thrusts her hands out before desperately realizing she shouldn’t do that. Not with what she can do. “Don’t touch me!”

The man doesn’t. Instead he patiently waits, his steel gray eyes staring off to the side of her face. 

There’s nothing there to be looking at. She checks. 

“Miss, how can I assist you?” He says. Pretty loudly. If her nerves hadn’t been shot, then she probably would have flinched. 

Instead of just sitting there. Shivering. 

“I-” She clears her throat. “Where am I?”

“You are in Nimbasa’s Subway Tunnels,” the man says promptly. 

Nimbasa? That....doesn’t sound familiar. 

To her dismay, Anna Marie finds her eyes tearing up. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Where were you before? Do you remember that?” the man prompts, holding his lantern high. Allowing her to see the deep frown on his face. 

“I was...New York. I don’t know how I got here.” She can’t cry. Not now, not after she’s run so far. 

“New York...” the man muses. “I do not know that terminal.”

He gestures with a hand towards the tunnel mouth. “Come. Let us go to a safe station to better discuss your derailing!”

Though she doesn’t know this stranger, he’s the best bet she’s got right now. And if he does try to hurt her...well. She glances at her bare hands. 

Her touch will be enough to take care of that. 

Anna Marie tries to get up to her feet, but she...can’t. Too weak to make it up on her own, she remains helpless on the ground. 

“Miss. I know you do not want me to touch you, but I might have to in order to keep this train on track.” He offers a gloved hand. “May I?”

She looks him over carefully. He’s wearing a long black coat, along with the gloves. Leaving very little skin to touch. Better to avoid accidentally killing him, harder to stop him if he goes too far. 

Anna Marie will have to go for the face, she decides. Also, if the man has gloves...

“Do you have spare gloves?” she asks quietly, wringing her hands. Rubbing them raw.

The man inclines his head and reaches into a deep pocket.  

Brings out a pair of white gloves that look exactly like the ones he currently wears. 

Offering them. Without even demanding a reason for why she wants them so badly. Why she doesn’t want to be touched or touch him. 

“Thank you,” she says, with all the gratitude she can muster. Her mother taught her manners, after all. 

Anna Marie takes the gloves and tugs them on. Too big, of course. But that’ll make them easier to slide off, just in case. 

That done, she takes the man’s hand and allows him to tug her onto her wobbly feet. A few attempted steps lets her know pretty quickly she won’t be able to make it far on her own. Her ankle hurts. 

Anna Marie rests against the damp wall as she thinks about what to do next. 

She’ll have to lean on him. Increasing the chances of accidentally brushing skin against his. Something she wants to avoid at all costs with this very polite man. 

Her lip trembles. 

The man is too occupied with his lantern to notice, thankfully.

“Hm. I will have to put this aside to better assist your passage, miss.” A gloved hand goes inside his coat. “I will be taking out one of my partners, running all safety checks!” 

A flash of red light. 

What looks like a chandelier appears. A chandelier with a face, strange yellow eyes looking in her direction as the entire thing gives off blue-purple flames. 

Anna Marie can’t help flinching back behind the man. Who, of course, notices. 

“Do not worry, Chandelure is well trained and will not harm you!” he assures her with almost a shout. “She will merely float ahead to light the tracks.”

This ‘Chandelure’ hums as it proceeds to do exactly that. The tunnel glows with its ghostly purple flames. Better than the dark. 

The man puts his lantern away. 

“Now, there are two routes we can take.” 

She nods to show she’s listening. Barely. 

“You may lean against me and we will follow after Chandelure on foot, as one option. The second option, I can pick you up.”

What?

“Pick me up?” Anna Marie repeats. 

The man nods. “We will move faster if I take you off your feet. I know you do not like touch, so whether I take that track is entirely up to you as the passenger.”

“I don’t even know your name!” She protests, mind whirling as she tries to buy time to make her decision. Because he’s right, it would be faster. And her ankle hurts a lot, just standing here. Not even walking. 

“Oh. That is right.” His eyes look somewhat embarrassed, even as the frown on his face never changes. “I am Subway Master Ingo. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Subway Master...that explains the uniform-like appearance he has, she supposes. Still a stranger, because she doesn’t know that name.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says politely.  

The Subway Master ignores the pleasantries, going straight back to business. “Which track would you like to take?”

Her choice? She doesn’t really have one, with her aching ankle. 

“I want to go on your back,” she decides. “No bridal carry.”

Safer that way, easier to get off. 

(Her hands will be closer to his face.)

A stiff nod. “Very well.”

He offers her his back, which she very carefully climbs onto. Hooking her arms around his neck. Making sure the borrowed gloves don’t slip. 

His body is stiff against her. Reassuring, this discomfort. The thought that he doesn’t want this anymore than she does. That they will get through this quickly as a result. 

(Maybe no one will have to die.)

“Now. What is your name, miss?” Louder, up close. 

She doesn’t want to leave him with nothing. That’s suspicious. 

(As if everything else she’s been doing hasn’t been suspicious enough.)

There’s been this fake name she’s been using...

She clears her throat. 

“You can call me Rogue.”

Chapter Text

Ingo had hoped that he wouldn’t find anyone out in these tunnels. Hoped but planned otherwise. Preparation is key to safety for both passengers and conductors!

Preparation that served when he found Miss Rogue. 

She’s about as old as Akari and Rei were in Hisui, if Ingo had to guess. He never tries to really guess, he’s never been good with ages and even worse with faces. 

Small enough that he can give her a ride without too much trouble.  

This isn’t the first time Ingo’s had to take a passenger on his back, of course. 

In Hisui, there were times he would find injured on the mountain slopes. Those who were unable to get themselves to their destination on their own. 

It became vital for him to carry them when they could not do the same for themselves. 

Like for Miss Rogue now. 

His XTransciever buzzes. Ingo taps at it to accept the message. 

“I am Emmet,” his brother introduces through the line. 

“I am on my way through the tunnels,” Ingo announces. He shifts slightly, to allow Miss Rogue to peer at the small screen over his shoulder. “I have found myself a lost passenger in the process.”

“Another one?!” His brother’s voice reaches an entirely new pitch compared to his normal, Ingo notes. 

The girl on his back flinches.

“Emmet, I will explain the details in person.” he says simply. “Have you finished your duties?”

“The wild Boldore have been caught, Ingo,” Emmet announces, moving on to more important topics at hand. Trusting his word on the matter of Miss Rogue. “There are no good battles here. I am on my way back to the main station, right on schedule.”

“All aboard!”

“All aboard,” his brother agrees. “I am on my way!”

Click goes the XTransciever as he hangs up. 

“Why does that man look exactly like you?” Miss Rogue asks. 

“He is my twin,” Ingo informs her. “We work as Subway Masters together. We are a two-car train.”

“...for the Nimbasa Subway?”

“That is correct.” He’s pleased that she remembered, in the middle of this great shock for her. It had taken quite some time for him to retain anything after his fall into Hisui. 

Chandelure hums up ahead, wiggling her flames about. Warning him that they have almost arrived at the appointed station. 

“Thank you, Chandelure.” He raises his voice. “All aboard! We have reached our station.”

Miss Rogue shakes on his back. Ingo reaches back to steady her. 

“Hold tight and mind the gap, we have arrived!”

Not one of the main stations, a lesser used one so as not to disrupt the subway operations. Beyond the Battle Subway, of course. 

There’s a number of depot agents around, properly taking charge of the situation.

Closest is... 

Ah, Marco. He’s here. Ingo can ask him about what’s happening. Very good. 

“What is the situation?”

“Boss, we found these people scattered in the tunnels. We don’t know if there are any more, so there are agents still searching,” Marco explains. The man glances at Miss Rogue over his shoulder. “This one girl of them?”

Ingo curtly nods as he salutes the man. Careful not to topple his passenger. “Yes. I discovered her injured in one of the side tunnels.”

“Does she need a Pokemon Center?”

“Nothing that is in dire need of assistance at the moment.”

There are six non-depot agents clustered around the station. Seven, if one includes the girl on his back at the current moment. 

Seven people that came out of nowhere in the dark. Seven people that may be as lost as he was in Hisui. 

They seem especially nervous about Chandelure, the way they all turn to face her and grow pale. Frightened. Ingo recalls his partner with an apology.

Now. Ingo needs to do something about Miss Rogue. 

He carefully lowers her to the ground, allowing her to squirm out off his back. She rests her back against the wall and watches everyone in the area very carefully. 

Hm. Interesting. 

Rogue looks less...clean than the others. Like he had been, when he returned from Hisui. It hadn’t mattered how much Ingo cleaned himself in Hisui, nothing of that time compared to the bathroom amenities modern times offered. 

She is also wearing more layers in comparison? Whatever isn’t shredded, that is. 

Is Miss Rogue from a different starting station or merely a different train?

Not that it matters, if it is the latter. Far more important to know if it is the first option.

“Miss Rogue, were you sharing a cab with these passengers?”

“Yes,” the girl barely says above a whisper, so Ingo doesn’t actually hear her. Instead he notes her nod. 

Good. That question has been answered. All will need to return to the same station. 

Ingo squats down next to her. But not too close! Space is very important, mind the gap!

“Now, to tend to your foot.”

He reaches under his coat to the medical pack that is now required by all staff to carry. 

Takes it off his waist to open it up, grab the bandages and medical tape inside.

Miss Rogue watches carefully. She scoots a little closer to see. 

“Are those....pictures?”

Ah. She must have caught a glimpse of the laminated photographs that he and Emmet now carry in their pouches at all times. Of each other, of their friends and family and Pokemon. Of home. 

(“So I won’t forget. Not again.”)

“Yes. Family is important,” is all Ingo says. He gestures to her feet. “Now, may I check your ankle, Miss Rogue?”

The girl hesitates. Worried about him touching her, in the most likely case. Such have run the rails of her concerns so far. 

“I will do it quickly and with my gloves on,” he promises. “I will follow those rules and any safety standards you set.”

“...okay.” 

Very slowly, she peels her boot off to reveal a filthy sock. A sock that might have been white at some point in its past but no longer. Underneath that is a mildly dirty foot. Thankfully not as bad as the sock. 

Ingo reaches out carefully to probe at her ankle. “Where is the pain?”

She points. He looks. Tests the spot gently with two fingers. She hisses in pain in response, but the bones do not appear to be moving unnaturally.

“I do not think it is broken,” he announces. “A sprain.”

Good. Ingo can handle sprains with his first aid equipment, until they can get the girl to a Pokemon Center to do an actual check up. 

Double checking is very important. 

Ingo wraps up the ankle. Tapes it up so the bandages do not risk falling off. 

“All aboard! We are ready for departure.”

Miss Rogue puts on boot and sock much more quickly than she took them off. 

“Thanks,” she says, not looking up to meet his eyes. 

“You are very welcome, Miss Rogue.”

A soft chirp off to the side, toe claws tapping away at the ground. Ah, it seems she has finally arrived.  

The girl looks up, startled. 

“Ah,” Ingo says. “There is no need to fear, it is only our resident station master!”

Green eyes stare. “What is that?”

Ingo looks over. Yes, still a Sneasel. Wearing a little station master hat, custom made to fit her feather and ears. A Hisuian Sneasel, though, with very different coloring from her modern day counterparts. Perhaps that is what is confusing Miss Rogue. 

“That is a Sneasel,” he explains. “She has been nicknamed Nugget, if you want a name to call her by.”

Hearing her name, Nugget squeaks away at him. Her claws reach out to tug at his coat sleeve. 

“Yes, yes, I will give you a treat. Allow me to refuel myself and Miss Rogue first!”

“Oh, ah, I don’t need anything. Thank you.” 

“If you are certain...” he allows, digging into his pockets. 

Hm. It seems he is out of any ration bars or the like at the moment. That is alright. He’ll simply eat later. These Mago Berries can go to Nugget, that is their intended destination. They are her favorite, after all. 

The little Sneasel grasps at the offered snacks hastily, shoving them into her mouth.  

“Boss, your brother’s just arrived,” one of the Depot Agents volunteers. 

“Bravo! Thank you, I will be over in three minutes.” Ingo pats at his coat as he rises to his feet. 

He looks over at the girl sitting with her back to the wall. “Miss Rogue, if you do need anything, please let one of the staff know, they will be able to assist you promptly.

Without any further delay, Ingo turns on his heel and marches off towards his brother. Nugget troops along after him.

They will need to further discuss what to do next, how to get these passengers home. 

Because as Subway Masters, that is their sworn duty!

There is only one way for the man known as Nick Fury to put this:

What a goddamn disaster. 

The Avengers, well, they hadn’t had their asses kicked by this newcomer. Barely. Having this so soon after the entire Chitauri situation...the only good part is the upheaval from the attempted nuke is keeping the Council’s noses out of it. 

Barely. 

They definitely didn’t need a new super villain. 

One whose first appearance had been on subway cameras, following after strange golem creatures. The man had called out...something and completely destroyed every camera in the area from the electrical damage. 

Leaving analysts grasping at straws to figure out what he had been doing there. 

Due to the train phrases and the man’s uniform-like coat, along with electricity the man had used to destroy the cameras, some smartass had labeled this stranger ‘the Conductor.’ The codename had stuck. 

It would be bad enough if it was just the Conductor and whatever fucking chaos he had left in his wake. But it wasn’t. 

Because the man hadn’t come alone. 

Shortly after the Conductor had vanished to God-knows-where, other individuals wearing green appeared. Green train uniforms, it looked like. With monsters of their own, more than happy to destroy more of the subway with random rock slides and earthquakes and lava plumes. Using flaming dogs, flaming camels. 

Creating more wreckage in their wake. 

Everything they couldn’t afford to have happening. 

Not when New York is still recovering from the Chitauri. 

This debriefing is a lot more casual than it should be, according to S.H.I.E.L.D. standards. If Nick had his way, Hill would be here as well. Instead of conducting damage control and assuring the public that everything was under control. 

Control that this meeting should be setting up in the near future. 

Only himself and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents on the Avengers. Hawkeye and Black Widow, Agents Barton and Romanoff. 

“Do you have anything to say, outside of your reports?” Fury asks, not really expecting an answer. 

“Pokemon. He was using Pokemon. I saw a real life Pokeball in his hands before the bird came out,” Agent Barton says. For once in his life, he seems completely serious. 

Talking about things that only exist in cartoons, being real. 

“You’re saying this man-” Nick Fury points to the screen, “-might pull out a Pikachu?”

“I mean, maybe?” Barton tries. “He might not need to, with what else he’s got so far.”

Agent Romanoff appears thoughtful. “So far we’ve seen a flying electric eel and a bird that appears like a dinosaur that can cause earthquakes. But he might have more.”

“Probably does,” Barton agrees. 

Fury lifts an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Uh...” The man scratches at the back of his head. “Look, there are a lotta nerds in S.H.I.E.L.D. Plenty probably watch Pokemon. More than I have! Do I have to be the one talking about this?”

“Barton.”

“Right, right. He’s...different from the rest, his uniform.” Barton gestures vaguely at the comparative pictures of the white Conductor and other attackers in their shorter green coats. 

“Different rank,” Romanoff says in support.

“Yeah. You get it. Different rank means different amount of Pokemon. More than the rest of the minions.”

“Because he has the resources to support them most likely. Seeing how these Pokemon are living breathing weapons,” Romanoff extrapolates, tapping the fingers of one hand against the table. 

A tick that’s only there for their comfort, Fury knows. Otherwise she would be as still as a statue. Waiting and listening. 

That much he’s almost grateful to Coulson for figuring out with her, when she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. That they wanted a person, not a weapon. Not a living weapon like Pokemon apparently are. 

...who would have guessed that one day they would be seriously discussing imaginary monsters from a children’s cartoon. Ones that apparently aren’t any more imaginary than the Norse gods are. 

“The question remains: what do they want?” Fury taps at the screen. “According to this, they’re looking for victims who can’t defend themselves with Pokemon and picked Earth.”

More aliens treating Earth as their personal plaything . Fantastic. 

“I don’t think so.” Romanoff shakes her head. “Not at first, at least.”

“Explain.” Fury waits. If her instincts are directing elsewhere on this...if the logic behind them is good, he’ll trust it. Only then. 

“The Conductor...he seemed almost surprised that we didn’t have any Pokemon. When he threw his bird out, he was expecting us to fight back with our own. And he left once he discovered we couldn’t do that.”

Hm. Interesting argument. But there’s one flaw to that thought. 

“That’s different from the green coats,” Fury points out. “They’ve always persisted in attacking, despite no one challenging them on their own ground.”

Barton shrugs. “Different quirks with elites. Or would you let just anyone use a bow like I do?”

Fury nods. “If the Conductor is an elite, I don’t like that he left because he may have gotten bored . Not because of anything the Avengers did.”

He turns to look at the one clear picture they have of a man, grinning maniacally at the camera for a brief second. Not something he’d like to see down a dark alley. 

“We’ll need information on everything that he and his minions carry. Find proper counters.”

“I bet Stark’s already cooking something up,” Barton says, leaning forward on the table. 

No bet on that. Of course the man’s coming up with a counter, this is the individual that built a robotic suit of armor that revolutionized warfare in the Middle East out of trash.  

“Dr. Banner will need to stay out of the fight for this, so there will be no relying on brute force. Remember that for your planning.”

Can’t risk the Hulk bringing down the subway like he did Harlem. 

“Discuss more with your team,” he orders. “S.H.I.E.L.D will help where we can.”

“You got it, boss,” Barton shoots him a mock salute as he gets up to leave. Romanoff merely levels off with a polite smile, following after. 

Leaving Nick Fury to figure out the next step about these ‘Pokemon’ people.

Fury shakes his head. 

“A fucking Pikachu. Honestly.”

Emmet greets his brother before anything else. He has to, first step of all procedures. The most important step for personal health and safety.

“Ingo, where did you find a girl?” he asks right away, after that step. 

“In back tunnels near the rift,” Ingo answers promptly. “I believe the odds of that being the track that brought her high.”

“Interesting. Is she hurt?”

His brother taps at his hat. “Nothing beyond her ankle. It will be best to take a train to the Pokemon Center for further safety checks that I was unable to conduct myself.” 

“More safety checks are always good,” Emmet agrees. 

Ingo pauses. Then continues. “...She does not like touch.”

“Like us?”

“Like us,” Ingo confirms. “But I do not think she is like us other than that. I will need more time to talk with her and discover what tracks she follows.”

Emmet hums. “I would like to meet her.”

“I will properly introduce you,” his brother agrees. 

Now that is done, there are other reports to follow up on. 

“Marco, report.”

The depot officer obliges, used to the twins getting to the point as soon as possible. 

“We found six scattered in the back tunnels. With the girl Boss Ingo found, that makes seven total. We do not know if that’s everyone, so other agents are still searching the rails to be sure.”

A breath as the man fidgets with the Pokeball on his belt. 

“They all seem fairly worried about the Pokemon, so we recalled ours just to be careful.”

Emmet and Ingo exchange a side glance. Both remembering what Ingo had said about the residents of Hisui being so afraid of Pokemon. 

What if these newcomers were from the same time? How would they get home then?

(Ingo got home, didn’t he? They can do the same for these passengers.)

“I will handle these new passengers,” Ingo says confidently. 

Emmet feels his shoulders slump just slightly in relief. That’s right, Ingo is around to do that again. Talk to strangers in a way those strangers found comforting, Emmet has never been particularly good with that. 

(After Ingo’s disappearance...he got worse.)

“Verrry good. I will talk to Marco for more details.”

He turns to the man as his twin marches off. 

“Are there more?”

Marco lets out a breath. “Sir, there’s no better way to say this. Supplies are missing. Uniforms most especially.”

“Uniforms are missing.” Emmet’s voice lowers. “Were they misplaced?”

“We thought that at first...but it’s been long enough that they appear to be actually gone, not lost.”

“How long?”

“...A week.”

A week. Emmet considers the situation. He taps his foot. Up and down, up and down.

“Is there footage on what happened?”

Marco shakes his head, gloved hand going up to his hat. “Nothing that made any sense. The most likely option is that they had an Electric Pokemon to take care of that. Only the cameras and not the lights in the area, though.”

That makes even less sense for the situation. Electric Pokemon have to be specially trained to target specific electronics, Emmet would know from his own. Otherwise it would be a mass blackout, easily noticed within the hours and not an entire week later. 

A specific training that is not usually available to common thugs. 

Hm. Verrry suspicious. 

He taps his foot again. “We will need to run all safety checks. Keep an eye on our passengers.”

“All we can do at this point,” Marco grimly agrees. “Sorry, Boss.”

Emmet shakes his head. “No, do not be. This is not your fault.”

He really doesn’t understand people’s habit of blaming themselves when things beyond their control go wrong. Not when they’re done their best. 

For small things. It was different with Ingo. 

“Chirrrup.”

Emmet glances down at both the tug on his coat and sound. Nugget’s red eyes look up hopefully at him. 

“I am not a snack cart,” he informs her. “I do not have any treats for you.”

“Mrrrn.” She wrinkles her nose. 

“I do not care what you think, that is the truth.” Emmet carefully tugs his coat free of a clawed grasp, to avoid tearing. 

“Marco, is there some safe terminal for them to stay at?”

Marco considers the question. “Nothing large scale or for long term. The best option would be to talk to Gym Leader Elesa for support, boss.”

“Ah, Elesa. Yes, she will know what to do.” His ever present grin widens. Becomes more real. 

It will be good to talk to his friend. They have been verrry busy lately, so neither side has been able to see each other as much as they would like to. 

This ongoing situation will be perfect for fixing that lack, Elesa is excellent at being of assistance. 

“Maaah!” More loud complaints from the station master. 

Emmet sighs. Carefully nudges her with a boot. 

“Nugget, my brother has food. Go find him.”

The Sneasel sniffs at him, scurrying off towards Ingo. 

Good. 

“Full speed ahead! We will make sure all procedures are followed and everyone will reach the end of the tracks safely!” Emmet announces.

A man sits on the edge of a ruined skyscraper. Looking up at the sky. 

Funny to think that there had been a hole in it, a mere short few weeks ago. Like the sky-hole that had delivered and taken away so much from him a very long time ago. 

Centuries, even. 

(So long without his Pokemon. Without anyone who knew who he really was.)

Nothing like a banishment to an entirely new universe to get one thinking about their possible wrongdoings. No matter what one really thinks about the situation. 

And he has had nothing but time to think, for so very long. Too long. 

He lets a sigh escape. 

“This world is so...boring.” 

There. He’s said it.

Nothing exciting to discover, explore. Nothing that most of this world’s residents were very interested in, anyway. 

And any time he came close to a decent discovery- well, it was taken from him. 

Like a chance to work under that one woman, what was her name? Jane Frost, Jane Foster, something like that. 

She had been doing work with wormholes. Holes in reality. Rips in time and space. 

(A chance. )

Just when he had been about to apply, she had disappeared. Gone off the face of earth, almost. Not a new trend, but certainly a very annoying one. 

He wrinkles his nose. 

These secret agencies are so painful. How is anyone supposed to find anything really fascinating when they’re so determined to scoop everything up?

Again, what a boring place this world is. 

He wants to go back home. 

And at last...with the rift that opened in the sky recently, he thinks he just might have found his opportunity to. 

Volo smiles. 

Chapter Text

“Pokemon, huh?” Tony Stark spins around his chair, having just finished listening in on the bug he placed in the helicarrier. Still active. 

Still got it.  

“As you say, sir.”

“Dig up what the internet currently knows about that. Real or otherwise.”

Tony thinks. Deciding what to do next, in the brief minute or so until his AI comes up with something. 

About how Pokemon are apparently real. Something he never would have seen coming. Not like aliens. 

Sure, what kid didn’t want a Pokemon when they were younger? They used to in all the rage, the show and the games that popped up after a ‘regional’ season was complete. 

The show wasn’t as popular as it used to be. Something something about how the games weren’t as fun as promised, people complaining about how Ash couldn’t win anything. 

Not that Tony really followed any of that. He wasn’t a fan. Not really. 

Unlike Robin Hood, apparently. Who would have thought?

“Apparently, at the conclusion of the show’s last season, the ‘Sinnoh’ collection, there was some minor drama.” 

He leans back in his chair. “Drama? Ah, give me the dirt.”

Jarvis’ voice is dry as he reports. “Apparently one of the more important show-writers decided to discontinue his contract, despite having been there from the very beginning. Everyone was very shocked by this.”

Not that it really matters but... “What’s the guy’s name?”

Tony fiddles around with a pen. 

“A Mr. Volus, it appears.”

Huh. Kind of a strange name, Latin or maybe? Not something you hear everyday. “Since fiction’s now become real, try to get this man on retainer. See if he has any ideas for what to do about his imagination coming to life.” Tony waves a hand. 

“There is a small problem with that, sir.”

“What is it?” 

“There is no information about him outside of his collaboration with the animation studio.”

What?

“Nothing at all?”

Absolutely nothing found so far.”

Tony finds himself narrowing his eyes. Now, that...that’s suspicious. 

Jarvis, being an AI, can find a ton of information very quickly. For there to be absolutely nothing remaining of this guy, not even a single digital footprint, for someone who apparently spearheaded an entire series of entertainment...that doesn’t happen by accident. 

“Bring up a picture of our mystery man.”

A hologram shapes itself into existence, showing off a man with long blond hair hiding part of his face, one gray eye visible over a smirk. 

Who frankly, looks kind of like a douche. Also unfamiliar. 

“Never seen him before.”

“I was unaware you moved in those circles, sir,” Jarvis says. 

“You never know, Jarvis.” Tony swipes the image away. “Keep an eye out, see if he’s involved in this somehow.”

A conspiracy in the heart of a kid’s cartoon series...or maybe just a really private man. 

But Tony has his doubts. 

“But for right now, if there’s any similarities between the tv series and the real deal...”

Tony leans back in his chair once more. 

“Jarvis, give me what you got on our friends in green and their monster buddies, with that in mind.”

“I have the results now, sir.”

“What do we have?”

He taps his fingers against the chair, resisting the urge to put on some rock. Not yet. 

“The camel-like creatures that use fire are most likely Numel. The gray hyena-like dogs are likely Poochyena. Both appear in the ‘Hoenn’ seasons of Pokemon.”

“Numel and Poochyena. Alright. What do we get for possible weaknesses? Hit up with some calculations?”

He brings up blueprints of a future suit he’s been working on. His current one might not be enough against real life pocket monsters. 

Depending. Against dogs, even super powered dogs, Tony’s pretty sure he’s good. The flaming camels might be more trouble, since he’s got footage for them melting concrete walls to keep in mind. 

“What do I have against magma...”

There are many Joltik in the tower that is currently called the Avengers Tower. 

Not the Joltik would know to call their new living quarters that. 

All they know is eating. There is so very much to eat here, so much electricity like they gathered off the rails of their old home. 

They do not know how they got here and with so much food, they do not care. Not that they would really care even in circumstances lacking food. Just...find food. 

One Joltik wanders off from the rest of its clustered brethren. It is small. Puny. Hatched a few weeks ago at most. 

Brave natured, it wanders with no heed to what danger it may face. 

This tower is so bright. 

It pokes its way across the wiring until it accidentally falls through an unexpected hole. 

But that is alright. 

It bounces, being very small and a bug. 

Oh, this place is even brighter. 

So many electrical things. A Joltic could live and die happy here. 

There is a thing made of metal that moves. Shaped like an arm of some kind. Wiggles in the Joltik’s direction, seeing it. 

Is it a Steel type? Not any this Joltik has seen in its short experiences. 

The Joltik decides to wiggle a small foot back. 

The Steel type seems happy as it wiggles back more. 

Very quiet. 

The Joltik buzzes and walks closer to the unknown pokemon. A mystery, full of electricity. It will not eat that electricity because what if the Steel type does not like it and will try to squish it. 

No, this Joltik will simply watch it. 

See if this pokemon has a strong human to join.

It hums to itself, many eyes blinking. Waiting and watching. 

And if it sleeps, who cares? 

Life is good. 

Rogue is so tired. 

She’s been tired for a long time, an ache present in her bones that she can’t chase away on her own. 

The only action that she can take that really makes the tiredness lessen...

Her hands flex, covered by the white material of her borrowed gloves. 

No. She can’t do that. She’ll never do that. 

Rogue takes a shaky breath. Reaches out for the crutches that one of the surrounding workers had dug out for her. 

Slowly, she props herself up on them. 

Takes a proper look at her surroundings for the first time. 

It’s a subway station, clearly, but different from the ones she’s more familiar with in New York City. The basic design is the same, very few variations on that. 

Ads advertise all kinds of strange things on the walls, some familiar like ‘vitamins’ and ‘fashion’ and others less so...

Like whatever an X-Attack is. 

There’s the other people from her subway here too. Talking to the station workers very seriously, talking to each other, looking around...

Doing anything but moving towards Rogue. Because Rogue is strange and dirty and very clearly homeless unlike the rest of them. That’s fine. Really. It is. Easier to avoid accidentally touching someone if no one wants to touch her in the first place. 

She shifts uneasily on her crutches. The grips dig into her armpits. 

Rogue really hopes that no one else is lost out in the tunnels. She wouldn’t wish that darkness on her worst enemy. 

“Sneee?”

Rogue looks down. The ‘Station Master’ is back. Staring at her with bright red cat eyes. 

It’s so weird looking. The simplest description would be a cat that stands on two legs, huge dagger claws on its front paws. But that’s not quite right either. 

Because cat is the easiest description, but something inside Rogue whispers ‘weasel’ or ‘ferret.’ A pet that a friend of hers had once. 

The shape of the head and body seems right for that. Almost, with a touch of cat maybe. The legs and front paws are definitely not, too long to contribute to a should be elongated noodle body. And that’s without the claws taken into consideration. Sloth claws? Plus feathers...

One thing’s for certain: no animal Rogue has ever seen or heard of comes in purple and white. 

“Eeee!”

The little creature chirps at her again. Moves closer, almost touching her crutches. 

Rogue shuffles the best she can away. A struggle to do without falling over. 

“You’re...” She wracks her brain for the name. “Nugget, aren't you?”

Nugget’s feather seems to perk up from under its hat, so Rogue is probably right about that. 

“Nugget, please go away.” 

Big red eyes blink. Long and slow. A small tongue sticks out from between pointy teeth. 

Rogue frantically waves a single gloved hand. “Shoo!”

“Murph.” 

Instead of backing off, the creature (Sneasel?) does the opposite. Gets closer. 

Rogue doesn’t know very much about her curse works. She’s been (rightfully) too afraid to test it out. 

What she does know: if she touches a person, she gets...memories. The pain in her body goes away. But in exchange, that person gets...well. Touching them too long means they die. 

What she doesn’t: if it affects animals or not. 

Something she definitely doesn’t want to test out on an animal that seems pretty highly valued by the people around here. The people that helped her. 

“Nugget! Leave the passenger alone!”

She looks up to see a man in white coming over. The man that Subway Master Ingo talked to before, over his watch. His twin. 

He smiles where the other is always frowning, doesn’t sound very loud. 

Nugget sniffs but waddles off, clawed toes clicking against the floor. Rogue relaxes. She doesn’t want to hurt the little thing, whose only crime is being pushy. 

Also, with Subway Master Ingo calling it their ‘Station Master,’ she would get in a lot of trouble for accidentally killing their pet. 

“I am Emmet,” the man introduces himself. “And you are Miss Rogue, the girl my brother found hurt in the subways.”

“Uh, yes?” Where is he going with this? She smiles nervously. 

“I have questions to ask you to get you to your proper station.”

Rogue swallows. Her mouth is dry, lips cracking. If she bites down, she might draw blood. She only nods, wordless. 

He continues. “Do you have any friends or family we need to contact?”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“Do you have any friends or family to contact?” he rewords his question, gray eyes sharp. 

Rogue...left her family for a reason. She doesn’t need anyone to replace what’s gone, not when she will only make everything worse. 

There is no one to contact and for good reason. 

Does she tell them? She might have to. But to distract him, she’ll say this. 

“Where I come from, we don’t have...Pokemon.”

No matter how familiar the word is, she knows they don’t. 

The man is quiet. For a moment. His hand reaches up to tug at his hat. 

“That must be verrry lonely.”

Rogue bites at her lip. Leaning a little back on her crutches. “I guess. But we have cats and dogs and other pets. So not really.”

Subway Master Emmet says nothing. 

...should she say something? Is he listening? It’s only polite to keep talking, right?

She clears her throat awkwardly. Shifts her body away from his direction. “Um, your brother, Subway Master Ingo-”

Gray eyes move over in her direction. Not anywhere close to her face, but the sudden increased intensity in the man’s is a little disconcerting. 

“He had a...flaming chandelier thing?”

“Chande lure,” The man corrects. 

“...can you tell me more? About it?”

“Of course I am able to! It is verrry important to know everything you can about your battle partner’s pokemon. You must have that information for the best strategies.”

Rogue blinks. 

“My brother’s partner Chandelure is a Ghost and Fire type,” Mister Emmet starts to explain. “She has moves like Overheat and feeds off of life energy.”

Life energy? 

Rogue does that, doesn’t she? Takes that every time she touches someone, that has to be it, to drive them into comas. 

Oh. So this Chandelure is...like her. Almost. 

“Are there others like that?” she asks. Hesitates. “...that try to eat life energy?”

“Many Ghost types run along parallel tracks and there are Moves that act the same way like Giga Drain,” the man cheerfully answers. 

Rogue thinks he’s cheerful about it, at least. His voice doesn’t really change, but his smile seems to. More real, less practiced. Or something like that, who is Rogue to judge? 

“That’s interesting,” she settles on, because what else is she supposed to say? She has no idea what this man’s talking about, mostly. The only familiar word she’s picked up out of that is ‘ghost’ and she doesn’t know if he means the same thing as she’s thinking of. Probably not, because he called the ‘Chandelure’ a ghost and Rogue has no idea how someone becomes a floating lantern after they die. 

But if these ghosts can control themselves, maybe there’s a way for her too?

She fidgets with her gloves. Tugs at one finger and then another and another. 

“How did he convince it to stop taking life energy?”

Gray eyes consider her very seriously. 

“Ingo talked to her. At the start of our journey, they had a verrry serious discussion.”

Okay, maybe that’s a point in the ‘dead people can become floating lanterns’ category, if said lantern can talk to people. 

That doesn’t really help her, though. 

She bites at her lip. 

Can she talk to ‘Chandelure’ herself? Is that possible? How does she even ask that? 

“What are you thinking about?”

Rogue jerks at Mister Emmet suddenly speaking again. She curls up best she can on her borrowed crutches, operating entirely on instinct. 

“I am sorry,” he apologizes immediately. “I did not mean to do that. I thought you were paying attention.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “No, I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

Rogue forces her body to straighten. Pretend she’s not afraid. 

From the way the man’s smile lowers and the way he looks her over, she doesn’t think she’s fooled him at all. 

The wristwatch buzzes. Mister Emmet looks briefly at it. “Ah. The interviews have been conducted and medical assistance has arrived. Are you prepared to board?”

To board? They’ve used so many train terms...probably ready to leave. Yes. Yes, she wants to leave, run away from her dumb fears. 

“Yes. Let’s go.”

He doesn’t even offer her a hand. 

Only stands and waits for her to collect herself on the crutches. 

Nice for once not having to push people away for trying to touch her while helping. But it’s also...strange, to not even offer that help in the first place. 

Rude, as her grandmother would call it. Mannerless. 

Rogue finds she doesn’t mind it. Because, again, she didn’t ask for help. Didn’t want help. And most people just...do. 

“Where are we going now?” she asks. 

Mister Emmet gestures to the entranceway. Well, ‘gesture’ is too simple of a word for the smooth, elaborate and obviously well practiced motion he makes with his hands. 

“We are on track to the Pokemon Center. There, they will check your injuries a second time for safety reasons.”

Rogue stiffens. Doctors...no, she can’t have that. “Do I have to?”

She inwardly winces at how whiny she sounds as the man tilts his hatted head at her. 

“It is best to check.”

“I...guess.” She fumbles forward as Mister Emmet briskly walks ahead, white coat swishing around him. 

“Do not worry,” he calls back. “They will be quick and if they will not listen to you, I will make sure they listen to me.”

That’s- kind. A promise much like his twin had made earlier, when wrapping her ankle. That no one will touch her if she doesn’t want them too.

That’s almost...that’s a lot. People don’t promise that, they say ‘get over it’ and then Rogue is surrounded by bodies and having to run again. 

This breaks the pattern. 

What does she do, with something that breaks the pattern?

Emmet does not linger after escorting Miss Rogue to medics. 

Well, not much. Not very long, not when he has a schedule to keep! Just enough to see the girl off along with the rest of the lost passengers to their next stop.

He informs the medical staff not to touch the girl without permission. Emmet is not sure if they listened, so he stresses that he’ll get involved if they don’t. 

That seems to help. Ingo is much better at people, he would know for certain what to do. Emmet can only do what he can. Which is lean on his position and smile. 

Smile as big as he can. 

The medical staff appeared to have listened, since they were not touching the girl when he left. Needing to keep to the schedule, to meet who’s waiting for him in Gear Station. 

“Emmet!” Elesa waves. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie, to better disguise herself. “What did you want to see me for?”

“Elesa,” he acknowledges, “We have new passengers from a far off station. So far off that they will need somewhere to stay.”

She tilts her head. Taps at her earphones. “Seriously? That’s like, not anywhere in Unova.”

“Or any other region.”

“...okay. So you want them to stay in the Nimbasa Pokemon Gym, because we have extra places for people to stay in case of emergencies.”

See, Emmet knew Elesa would understand. He nods, tapping his foot. 

“Will you do it?”

“Yes. We can head there right now, to see everything in person, and you can tell me more about these ‘far off passengers.’”

“That is an excellent plan. All aboard!”

They stride out together, side by side. 

Outside the Gear Station, Emmet sees a verrry irritating sight. One he’s been forced to deal with over the last two weeks. 

People with...signs. Crying out against the subway. Chanting about shutting it down. For protecting the native Ground Types and other nonsense. 

Emmet’s nose wrinkles at the sight. His smile dims. 

“They are still here. Even with their words doing nothing.”

Elesa shrugs. A practiced archful motion, meant to slide a coat off one’s shoulders. “People are like that. But coming to Unova to protest a Hoenn train disaster? That’s pretty far!”

Emmet narrows his eyes, hand going up to his hat. “Foolish. Our subway is much safer than the attempted line to Sootopolis City. We follow every safety precaution.”

What a ridiculous course to take. The Nimbasa Subway lines are the best that they are, in no part due to his and his twin’s hard work. Nothing like the complete disaster of hiring brand new engineers to put in tracks to Hoenn’s most difficult to reach city.

Without properly planning or testing it out beforehand-

No wonder people had died. The Super Luck playing around in the situation was that more had not. 

Bad. Trains do not rely on luck. Only bad trains need luck and the Nimbasa Subway is the opposite of that. 

The environmental aftermath would take years to clean up, damaging the nearby crater lake. As well discouraging anyone from trying such a project ever again, no matter how it might profit the people of the area. 

A train disaster of proportions that Emmet could only say he hated. Verrry much.  

Especially if it led to stupid people who claimed to be enivornmentally conscious showing up in Nimbasa, wanting to shut his subway down. 

He quickens his pace past the protestors before they can move to get in his way. 

“Emmet-! Wait, not in these shoes!” Elesa fumbles after him in her heels. 

“Should have changed,” he calls back. “You know they are not good for work!”

“Your work, not mine!” She yells after him. “Why are you like this?”

“I am Emmet.”

The words are only true, but they make Elesa laugh when they are his answer to some of her answerless questions. So he will say it to her, now and always.

Sure enough, she does laugh even as she wobbles after his efficient steps.  

“This better not be a Team Plasma revival,” she hisses under her breath, catching up. “Dealing with those bozos twice is more than enough for me.”

“Team Plasma knows better than to touch the subways,” Emmet says scornfully. “Only morons from another region would do that now.”

During their first appearance, Team Plasma had decided to raid the subway for pokemon. To ‘save them from battling’ or some poke-shit like that.

They had raided once. Never again. Not after he and Ingo were through with them. 

The fear had apparently been enough that even after the team had returned two years later to strike fear into Unova once more, the Nimbasa Subway had never seen another Team Plasma grunt pass through its tunnels. 

Elesa smiles. “Yeah, you guys are definitely terrifying. In a good way.”

“Not goofy?”

“I said I was sorry-!” 

Emmet shakes his head. “Not sorry enough.”

“ Mean. ”

He changes their tracks. Just enough to get back to an important subject that Emmet is certain Ingo wants him to discuss with Elesa. To get more insight. 

“There is a teenage girl that Ingo picked up. One of those we need you to watch over, lost and injured in the subway.”

“Another one?” Elesa laughs. “Man, who knew getting lost through time and space would lead to your brother mentoring teenagers left and right?”

“One day I will get him to stop.” Emmet sighs. “Today is not that day.”

Elesa’s blue eyes watch him keenly. Careful not to meet his eyes. 

“What is she like?” 

“She wanted to know about Chandelure and Ghost types, after changing the subject to not talk about her family. I told her about them.”

Elesa looks thoughtful, one hand reaching up to tug at her earphones. “Huh. I bet Ingo showed off Chandelure for her, if she was asking about that.”

Emmet taps his index fingers. “Yes. She wanted to know about life force stealing.”

A common topic of choice for those new to raising Ghost types. Since that was the Type’s biggest method of feeding, most asked about that first before anything else. Out of fear, out of morbidity...Ingo’s had to field many asking about proper safety procedures. 

Ridiculous. Of course Chandelure is safe, they would battle with her if she was not. 

People make such a big deal about understanding what isn’t said outright and then ask obvious questions like that. 

But the girl...something seemed different about the way she asked. Emmet can’t quite put a finger on what, though. 

He shakes his head. 

Wait. She said...

“They do not have Pokemon.”

“Huh? What’d you mean, they don’t have Pokemon?”

“That is what Miss Rogue told me. They do not have Pokemon.”

Elesa’s eyebrows pinch together. “What kind of world doesn’t have Pokemon? That sounds like some fantasy novel.”

Emmet shakes his head. “I do not know. We will have to ask more to find out.”

Not something he’s especially looking forward to. He’ll put it on Ingo, his twin is much better at talking with people than he is. 

His friend twirls a finger in her dark hair. “Alright, tell me about what this girl is like again.”

Emmet repeats his report. Waiting to see what she comes up with. 

“You said that she doesn’t want to be touched and doesn’t want to talk about her past. Is she...curling up at all? Trying to protect her core?” Elesa curls an arm over her stomach in semi-demonstration. 

“When I accidentally surprised her, she did.”

His friend lets out a breath. “Okay, I might know what’s going on with her.”

Emmet waits. 

Elesa’s face turns serious. “This isn’t exactly common...but that sounds like she’s showing all the signs of being assaulted in the past. Possibly in a long term way.” 

She counts off the symptoms on her fingers. “Doesn’t want to be touched in any way, doesn’t trust people, refusing to talk about her past at all...there could be another explanation but that’s the most likely right now.”

Assault? That’s...

“That is verrry bad.” Emmet lowers his hat over his eyes. As a servant of the public, he’s had to deal with a few cases of assault, attempted or actual.

He’s just...passed them on to their next stop, after delivering well deserved punishment and assistance. Never had to figure out what tracks to lay beside them. Not like this. 

“What can be done?”

Elesa rolls her shoulders with a sigh. “What you and your brother have done in respecting her boundaries is good. We’ll have to play it by ear, keep doing that and figure some more out on the way.”

“I will tell Ingo. We will work this out together,” Emmet decides. 

“Of course you will.” Elesa’s smile is soft. “You guys are really good at figuring stuff out.”

His XTrans buzzes on his wrist. Emmet glances down. 

-I am with Depot Agents Marco and Ilum now. 

-Do not worry! 🚂

He heaves out a quiet sigh of relief at seeing the message. Though he should have expected this, truthfully. 

Ever since Ingo’s return, his brother has begun wandering. 

Gave him a heart attack the first and second and many other times it happened, when he would wake up and choke on the realization that his twin wasn’t there. 

Only to find Ingo just...wandering. Walking around in the dark of the city, without any thought of telling anyone where he’d gone. Without thinking that anyone might panic at his absence. 

It can be hard. Dealing with that. 

Still hard. 

...Ingo’s better at reminding him when he’s going somewhere, at least. 

Not perfect, but they have new safety protocols to do what they can. 

Emmet texts back. 

-Have you found anyone else?

Ingo’s reply comes quickly. 

-There are no others in the tunnels. 

-It appears that we have found everyone. 

Verrry good. Leaving the next step of returning these lost passengers to their proper destination. And telling Ingo what he and Elesa talked about, on Miss Rogue.

-Return safely. 🚂

-I will. 🚂🚂🚂 

“Was that Ingo?”

“Yes. He is talking to some agents now. There is no one else in the subway tunnels.”

Elesa lets out a breath. “Whew. That’s a relief.” 

Her grin is almost as wide as Emmet’s own. “You could say it’s pretty freight , eh?”

That was bad. Nope nope nope. 

“Stop talking.”

“Bu-”

“ Nope.” 

Chapter Text

Emmet would verrry much prefer his brother to be here with him, but unfortunately under current conditions, his twin cannot be spared. 

At least one Subway Master (or other powerful trainer) is to stay in the area of the Nimbasa Subway when the subway is at risk of wild Pokemon attacks, natural disasters, or any other serious events that may pose a danger to the passengers and inhabitants of Nimbasa. 

That is the rule!

The other subway workers cannot be spared either, busy at keeping the trains on schedule and cleaning up disaster damages. 

Leaving Emmet to deliver the news on the missing passengers on his own. 

He is strong enough to do so, should anything happen. He taps at his Pokeballs in reminder and then his XTranseceiver. 

Ingo will only be a call away. They are doing check-ins every ten minutes. They have location tracking that is ongoing. 

They will be okay. 

(No one will go missing. Not him, not his brother. They’ve worked through this!)

The group of opponents from before are waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. 

Good! That will make this much easier than having to track them down. 

There are cracks in the surrounding walls, he notes, as he moves in their direction. 

“Your tunnels are not verrry sturdy,” Emmet notes. “You will need to fix that. Yup.”

Hm. 

Now Emmet is not the best at figuring out facial expressions, but these people seem offended by that. 

Not exactly out of ordinary, quite a few skilled Pokemon trainers hate when he critiques their team after defeating them in a good Doubles battle. 

(“Emmet, you cannot tell passengers that their teams are bad and they should feel bad!”)

“Like you’re one to talk,” the armored man scoffs. 

Emmet’s smile twitches in confusion. What could he mean by that? He opens his mouth, about to ask. 

But another person interrupts. Which one, Emmet doesn’t catch. 

“What do you want?”

Ah. They’re on track. Emmet digs a hand into his coat pocket to pull out the list.

“We have people that you will want,” he states, unfolding the paper. 

“What do you mean by that?” The red haired woman asks, eyes intent on his face.

He looks away from that burning gaze. Focuses on the names. Stop looking at him, expecting him to meet their eyes, strangers are the worst at this. 

Stick to the script. He planned for this. 

“Seven passengers have fallen off your tracks onto ours. Their names are on this list.” Emmet indicates the paper in his hand, drawing all eyes to it. “We do not want them. Where do we return them?”

The people standing in front of him all exchange glances. Eventually, the one in blue and red (with the shield) steps forward. Speaks. 

“We’d like to take you in for a few questions.”

Emmet considers the words and the message behind them. 

His brother needs him. The subway needs him. He has more responsibilities to cover rather than getting taken away by strangers that don’t even have Pokemon for some unknown amount of time. 

Not a choice at all. 

He smiles wider, hand going to his belt after he tucks the list away. His Pokeballs. “No. I will not. I have a schedule to keep.”

Do you want to battle, every inch of him says. Body language is clear and clean. 

He is not good at words but it looks like these people need to know what happens next. 

“I am Emmet. Follow the rules and drive safely! We’re headed for victory! All aboard!”

Who first-?

The ground shakes. He staggers, and his opponents are not much better off. 

On the other end, something breaks through the wall. 

Takes a moment for Emmet to identify it but identify it he does!

Red glowing eyes, rock body much larger than usual...Emmet never thought he would ever see an Alpha Pokemon in person, outside of Ingo’s tales of Hisui. 

An Onix at that. 

A challenge! One to be taken care of quickly before the not too sturdy walls of this subway fall apart on all of them. 

His mind quickly calculates. What Moves do his Pokemon have that can do lots of damage to an Onix? Where does he take this battle? 

“Steel type,” he decides, reaching for Durant. The Pokemon appears with a clacking of his mandibles. Always ready for a fight. 

Emmet points and commands, “Iron Head!”

Durant eagerly obeys, more than happy to try his strength against an Onix much larger than usual. Driving the angry beast back despite the disparity in cab sizes. 

To their credit, the non-Pokemon using people are quick to react in their own way.

The man with a shield gets said shield up to defend his more squishy companions from the debris.The armored man breaks bigger pieces of an attempted Rock Throw apart with well aimed mini-Hyper Beam shots.   

Not enough. Not in such weak subways, should they be good enough to stand against an Earthquake? What are the people around here doing? 

Rocks fall. Lots of rocks fall as the Alpha Onix roars, body lashing about wildly. 

“Durant, knock back with X Scissor,” he instructs, and the Pokemon hurries to parry the rocks away from them. Allowing Emmet time to take out another Pokemon.

Not to attack, but to protect them from the inevitable. 

This place is not safe. Poor safety standards. Verrry poor ones. 

Good that he is prepared for this. 

“Archeops! Protect!”

The bird Pokemon sweeps out his wings with a loud cry, a shimmering clear shield forming above them. 

Barely in time to shield them from rocks crashing in. 

Leaving Emmet stuck underneath the new rubble of this tunnel. Derailed, how bad. 

In this newly made dark space...Emmet clicks at his XTranseceiver to provide a little light. A flash of red on the floor, but not the red of blood. Belonging to...

“Ah. The woman.”

Trapped here with the red haired woman. Who looks...not well. Laying on the ground with her eyes closed. Hm. 

He calls back Durant and Archeops, with a murmured thank you. Need all the space they can get down here. 

Then, Emmet taps at his wrist. Contacting his brother as he scoots over to do a quick check on her. 

“Ingo. There is something I need to tell you...”

Natasha wakes to quiet talking in the background. 

Quiet on her end, actually. The speaker on the other is much louder, clear enough for her to understand despite the buzzing of a possible concussion in her skull. 

“-careful! I do not want your train to jump its tracks if you try switching too soon!”

“I will, do not worry, Ingo. We will be waiting.”

Click. The Conductor (for who else would it be?) hangs up, turning to look at her. His face’s features are exaggerated by the light of his phone-like watch. 

The man’s eternal smile grows more real. 

“Ah, you are awake. That is good.”

She carefully pushes herself up off her back. Bites back a groan at the bruises all along her side. That rock snake really did a number on her...

“Are you hurt?” The Conductor asks. His gloved fingers twitch from where they hang at his sides. 

“I’m fine,” she says. She glances around at their surroundings. Rock, rock, and more rock. Creating a space that’s big enough for them to sit up, but not stand. Dark but for the screen on the Conductor’s watch. Barely bright enough for them to see each other’s faces. Only her and the Conductor too, unfortunately. Natasha hates to ask but...

“Do you know what happened?”

The man hums, gray eyes also flicking about the area. His foot taps against the ground. 

“The thrashing of the Onix brought the tunnel down. We are stuck in the rubble until employees of my subway come to dig us out.”

Subway workers...Natasha almost stiffens. Only expert control of her own body prevents her from doing so. 

That would explain the uniforms of the green attackers. 

My subway, the Conductor had said. A confirmation that those people in green worked for him. 

She needs to be not here when they arrive. 

Yet...

Natasha checks her surroundings once again, useless as she knows the action is. 

She already looked and she already knows: there’s not a way out. 

Not on her own. 

The best action she can take is to pretend she’s more hurt than she really is. Create an opening to escape later, when his subordinates come for them. 

She lets a gasp of pain escape her as she slumps back. 

Gray eyes widen in alarm. “Miss? Are you alright?”

Not moving any closer. Thus not allowing her chance to slip some of his weapons away. 

...hm. She’ll have to try a different approach. 

“Emergency lights, on!” The man lets out, with a flash of red light, the eel-like creature from their first encounter. The floating eel seems to respond to his words, glowing with an electric light that chases away the darkness of the small enclosed space. 

Allowing her to see both creature and owner more clearly. 

Natasha allows herself to flinch at the sight, even as she takes in every detail. 

Long, even curled around as it about its owner, with two clawed tentacles. Like arms, possible weapons. But the wide jaw under red eyes seems more of a possible threat. 

None of that, of course, accounts for the sparks gathered about the eel to light the area. 

Electricity. But how many volts? A taser? A lightning bolt? More? 

“Miss, how are you injured?” the man persists, moving closer now with the eel floating by his side. Guarding him inadvertently from her planned move of disarming him. Also taking no notice of her flinch, hm.

“My head...” she groans. “And maybe my ribs.”

“That is verrry not good.” The Conductor taps his foot again. Some kind of nervous tick. 

His eel hisses, glow gradually brightening. “I can provide limited medical assistance.”

“...it’s not serious. I can wait.”

“If you are certain.”

She nods, sitting up more fully. “Yes.”

That taken care of, he seemingly...ignores her. Turns off to the side, not meeting her eyes. But the man hasn’t been meeting her eyes the entire time, hasn’t he? It’s just more clear than before, the way he turns his body.  

He rubs gloved hands along the eel’s sides, the creature leaning into it. Buzzing, purring? Some kind of pet as well as a weapon, then. 

If there’s an emotional attachment, Natasha can do something with that. Probably not much on the Pokemon’s end, being a large creature that can use lightning, but perhaps taking the Conductor hostage is a more viable possibility.

In the almost silence, she mentally counts off her options. The facts she’s gathered.  

First, she’s hurt. Bruises and what could be a concussion. Nothing that can stop her from acting. 

Second, the Conductor has confirmed three different Pokemon he can use. The eel, the metal ant, and the dinosaur-bird. If Clint is correct, he most likely has three more at hand. She cannot get those at the moment, with the eel out. 

Third, she’s been separated from the rest of the Avengers. And the Conductor has back-up coming. That is the worst part, the part she needs to carefully prepare herself for. 

Yet...

There is something definitely off about the Conductor.

How can she use that?

The Shadow of Lord Ghetsis knows their duty. They serve their Lord, as they swore their life to his, in exchange for his salvation. 

The Shadow Triad did this as one. 

How, then, can the three of them serve their Lord if their Lord is nowhere to be found? If their Lord has been driven from his rightful throne by those who know nothing? By a traitorous heir? 

So many Sages trapped or turned traitors. What place was there for the Shadow Triad? 

This question haunted them for years, purposeless without their Lord. 

Until that day the stranger came, in a flash of blue light. 

Sparked new inspiration like the Dragons of old, carrying a box that glowed with the blue world-splitting lightning of Zekrom. 

Fleeing from who knows where and the Shadows didn’t care about the details. 

Only what advice this stranger came, in exchange for knowledge about where he had arrived. 

That stranger had called themself...

“Silvertongue...what a name,” the Shadow muses to themself. 

Perhaps the Shadow Triad will meet the stranger again. Perhaps not. 

They care little for what has become of that stranger, only for lies ahead. 

For how to bring their Lord back to glory. 

There are resources about in the world, why not use them? 

Prove to Lord Ghetsis that they have not forgotten him, put old plans that never were implemented into use. 

Each one has taken a separate plot for their own. A different method to draw their leader back. 

This particular Shadow is in charge of a distraction. Of sorts. 

They’ve called on resources outside of their home region, even. Due to the scattering of Team Plasma to the four winds.  Reaching out to Hoenn to find those who would agree with their cause. 

What had once been known as Team Magma had been split up years ago, leaders imprisoned and members with less offenses scattered to the winds. 

But even with the team itself being gone, the beliefs that had formatted within that group remained. Much like the truths and ideals that Team Plasma had sought, unable to be truly ended. 

The Shadows had put out the call (and the money) and those remnants had answered. Even from as far away as Hoenn, prompted in part to action by a recent train disaster that had occurred there. Roaring about the damage it had done to the local Ground types, how it had ruined the economy. 

The remnants had come, to prove to Unova how untrustworthy the subway of Nimbasa truly was. The Shadows had given them the uniforms of the workers, to draw the eye and judgment of all.

Then they had unleashed their recruits to cause havoc. 

All a distraction, of course. 

Though this Shadow may want, with all their heart, to punish those upstarts that ran the subway, they know better. No, the public might believe the lie being told, but far more likely they wouldn’t. Trusting their Subway Masters far too much. 

For now, these uniformed thugs would serve as a clever distraction as the Shadows did the real work behind the scenes. 

To make all fear the name of Team Plasma once more, and draw Unova under their Lord’s rule. As is right, as is proper. 

The Shadow rubs at the Pokeball in their hand. Buzzing, warm to touch. 

Their Bisharp, ready for action. 

“Not yet,” they whisper. Not yet, not time. 

This Shadow leads the fake conductors through the tunnels under flashes of electric blue light. Destroying the subway and proving that those who run such places cannot be trusted. The other two have their own duties to carry out, for their plan to succeed. 

Their phone beeps. 

It is time to meet with their brethren. Announce what has been done. 

The Shadow opens up the call, seeing two other hidden faces stare back. Right into business. 

“How are our plans?” they ask. 

The answers are swift. 

“I will show the so-called gym leader of Nimbasa the true power of Team Plasma,” the third Shadow boasts, the youngest of the three. “All preparations are being made without any obstacles.”

The second Shadow answers, more calmly, “Our hunt for the traitorous heir and his allies continue. We will corner them soon enough.”

As for themself...

“The distraction has been going well.” Almost too well. They pause. “There is more.”

“Yes?” The other Shadows wait, eyes intent as this Shadow searches for the right words to put for what’s been going on with the distraction in the subways. 

How the subways seem different. This place is...different. Wrong. 

“These people...lack Pokemon,” they finally put words to what they’ve seen so far. The people they’ve frightened and scared, not one has taken out a Pokeball to fight back. All have fled, powerless against even the smallest Poochyena. 

The second Shadow inclines their head. “If that is so...is that not perfect for our Lord? For him to take?”

The Shadow Triad has always known what Lord Ghetsis strove for, in separating Pokemon and Human. A world to rule. 

Having a place already prepared in such a way...a good omen. A sign. 

“Let us take this land for him, and he will return to reign.”

Lord Ghetsis must return. 

(That is all they know.)

Going to the Pokemon Center wasn’t as bad as Rogue expected it to be. 

The nurses or doctors or whatever they are didn’t touch her. And when they had to, to look at the ankle Mister Ingo wrapped up, they did it quickly and with gloves on. 

No risk of touching skin-to-skin. 

They actually listened to her, when they asked her if she wanted anything else like painkillers and she said no. 

Felt...strange. 

She still felt uncomfortable afterwards, the other passengers from her subway car muttering at the strangeness of her requests. But that’s normal. Normal. 

Rogue’s injured foot now rests easily on the ground, supported by a brace. She can walk, but the doctors recommended she sit down as soon as possible. 

Something that Rogue plans to do. 

Whenever this newcomer, a Miz Elesa has finished taking all them to their new destination. A place where they can stay until they figure out how to get everyone home, as the woman explains. 

Miz Elesa is...bright. Bright and pretty, long dark hair and pale skin with electric blue eyes that add a glow to her face. She’s dressed like a pop star, if Rogue had to make a comparison, headphones and yellow boa-like coat and all. 

Eager to talk to, easily chatting to one of the women that Rogue rode along with. About something, Rogue herself is too busy minding her steps and crowd to pay much attention. 

This city...looks like a New York City but also not. Something slightly off, that Rogue can’t quite place, something other than the strange creatures in the street alongside the humans.  

“We’re here!” Miz Elesa calls out cheerfully. 

This place that they’ve been taken to...is big. 

It looked big from the outside, but it seems even bigger on the inside. 

Due to the presence of...

“You have a roller coaster?” Rogue blurts out. Instantly regretting it because now everyone else in their group is looking at her.  

Miz Elesa laughs in response. “Isn’t it great? I put a lot of work into getting this gym to my exact specifications!”

She spreads her arms to indicate the entire wild space, full of bright colors and lights and a runway and yes, roller coasters. 

“Gym?” Another man in their group asks, looking around himself. “How is this a gym? I don’t see any exercise equipment...”

“Oh, this is a gym for Pokemon battles,” Miz Elesa explains with a flourish of her hand, yellow jacket puffy and plump about her shoulders. “I’m not only testing the strength of a challengers’ Pokemon, but how well they can put the pieces together.”

She points to a coaster car going directly overhead. “See, each one goes to a different platform. You need to hit the right switches to get to face me in the center and finish the challenge!”

Pokemon battles...Rogue knows now where she’s heard that before. There’s a cartoon about Pokemon, isn’t there? She never watched it, but she’s heard of the main character having a Pokemon called a Pikachu. Who hasn’t?

And the show is supposed to be all about Pokemon fighting each other...so this gym is part of that. 

“Where will we be going?” A woman looks worried. “I don’t do very well on roller coasters.”

“Don’t worry,” Miz Elesa assures her, heels clicking on the floor. 

She raises her voice to call out, “Colette! Can you get these people into a side room?”

A woman dressed in a beautiful white and blue dress walks in from the side, coming to her boss’s call. “Yes, of course I can. Please, follow me!”

She beckons to the group, twirling an umbrella in hand. 

Rogue makes to go with the rest, only to be stopped by Miz Elesa holding out a hand in front of her. Careful not to touch. 

“Wait.”

Rogue doesn’t bite her lip but only because the woman is watching her, eyes steady on her face. 

“There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Oh no. 

Rogue nervously follows the woman over to some benches set against the wall. 

Miz Elesa sits on one of the small benches, head tilted towards her. Waiting for her. 

Rogue slowly settles down on the other bench. Anxiety itches in her back and hands. 

She pulls on the ends of the gloves, making very sure that they’re on. Covering everything they can. 

Rogue clears her throat. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

Polite. Perfect. Nothing hiding here, no siree. Nothing to worry about. 

“Do you have anyone to contact?” 

Rogue almost freezes. What? 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“Well, the others have all given us information that we can use to contact their friends and families to let them know where they are,” the woman explains. 

Oh no, Rogue knows where this is going. This is about what she said to that Subway Master, isn’t it?

“See, they all have people missing them and homes to go back to.” Miz Elesa lets out a breath. “Even if they didn’t, well, they’re adults. You’re not and you haven’t told us anything about your family. Do you see why I’m concerned?”

“You don’t havto worry,” Rogue bites out, suddenly angry. 

What right do these people of an entirely different world have to worry about her?

There are plenty of other homeless teens on the streets of New York City, hell, just in America. No one’s ever given a shit about that before. People mind their own business and for a girl with a lot to hide, that’s perfect. 

“I can just go back. I can find somewhere, you don’t need to get involved,” Rogue continues, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Electric blue eyes look away. “I see.”

Miz Elesa leans back against the wall, stretching her hands above her head. “If you don’t want to talk to me, is there someone else you want to talk to instead?”

See, Rogue doesn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wants to go back, get back to her work of surviving another day. 

She has a feeling that this woman won’t let her go unless she talks to someone, though. 

...Subway Master Ingo had that Chandelure thing, didn’t he? His brother, Mister Emmet, talked a lot about how it eats life force. 

Like her touch seems to. 

“Can I talk to Mister Ingo?” she settles on. 

Miz Elesa’s face lights up, almost as bright as the neon light of her gym. “Let me contact him, I’m sure he’ll be happy to!”

The woman slides out a smartphone from her jacket’s inner pocket and taps away out it, probably sending a text. 

She nods at whatever she sees lighting up her screen. “He’s on his way. Where would you like to wait?”

What, already?

“Right here’s fine,” Rogue makes out. Barely. 

Subway Master Ingo is there in about ten minutes, if Rogue had to guess. 

But it seems even longer than that, swinging her legs back and forth as Miz Elesa tries to pretend she’s not watching her. 

A relief when the man arrives, drawing Miz Elesa’s attention away. 

“How may I be of assistance, Miss Rogue?” The man is just as loud as ever. 

Rogue stares at him. He’s really here. Just because she asked. No other reason. 

“Uh...” She tugs at her gloves. The gloves that she got from him. “Can I...see your Chandelure again? A little longer?”

Mister Ingo tugs at his hat. “Very well, I can show my partner to you. Elesa, if you don’t mind?”

Miz Elesa taps at her oversized earphones. “Of course not! It’s been a while since our last fight, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

Mister Ingo gives the woman a firm nod. With a flash of red light, the Chandelure appears in the space between them. 

Rogue studies the sight with her eyes, not her hands. Jack O’ Lantern face in the center, black ironlike arms spreading out like an upside down spider. Purple and blue fires on the edges of those arms, tangled throughout the entire body.  

A living chandelier. Or an undead one, since Mister Emmet mentioned ghosts. 

“How does it eat people?”

“My Chandelure does not eat anyone, Miss Rogue. But if you are asking about life force consumption, do you see her flames?” A gloved hand indicates the metal arm parts that have blue-purple fires coming out of them. The living lantern even moves closer for him to more closely point. 

Rogue nods. “Yes. What about them?”

“They flare up as she feeds,” he explains, “One can also put more physical types of food in the flames and she will burn those morsels up to feed on those in turn.”

No touch needed. Huh. 

“So how did you get her to stop eatin’ people?” That’s the important part, the part she needs to know how to do for herself. 

Gloved fingers tap together. “...We had a very firm discussion on the topic. Miss Rogue, if you are worried about Chandelure, there is no need to be, she is very well trained!”

Rogue shakes her head. “No! I was just...” she looks away. 

“Curious. That’s all. Because, well, um-” what does she say? “-my family.”

Miz Elesa and Mister Ingo tilt their heads toward her in almost unison. 

“Your family?” Miz Elesa prompts softly. 

Why did Rogue say that? Stupid!

She’ll stretch the truth just a little. Just enough to get them satisfied. 

“They got hurt, that’s all. From a ghost. Not a Pokemon ghost!” Rogue rushes to clarify. “Just something that put them into a coma, and I can’t...”

She can’t go back. In case she does that for real. Like she did to her boyfriend.

“I’m fine,” she repeats. “You don’t need to worry. They’re just dumb questions.” 

“With that in mind, Miss Rogue, I do not think your inquiries were stupid at all.” Mister Ingo reaches up to tug at his hat. “I must ask myself, though...do you have anyone else to go back to, in the light of that revelation?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m going to my...” Pick a name, pick a random family member. “Cousin!”

“Ah. I see.” 

In the middle of that discussion, Chandelure reaches out. Lightly brushing against her cheek with one of her ‘arms’ before Rogue has a chance to flinch back. 

The flame on the end of it flickers. Off and on. 

Rogue gasps. For a second it felt like-

Mister Ingo jumps on the situation right away. “Chandelure! We do not touch passengers at any time! Especially if they do not want to be touched! Miss, my apologies, that was very inappropriate!” 

Felt warm. 

For a second...the ache in her body went away. And her ankle definitely feels better. 

“It’s okay,” she says weakly. Even if it’s really not, people always expect you to say it’s fine. That everything is alright. Rogue looks the Pokemon over worriedly. Did she hurt it? Is the ghost lantern okay?

The Chandelure still hovers there. Flames strong and purple and not flickering at all. So it’s fine. She’s fine. 

Rogue breathes out an inward sigh of relief. 

The Pokemon makes a chiming sound. “Shn!” 

Mister Ingo seems to understand what that sound means, somehow. “No, we are not taking her with us.”

Wait, taking her with them? Rogue almost jerks up back onto her feet. 

Miz Elesa also looks surprised. “What, why would you do that? It’s still dangerous down there.”

“Lure!” The Chandelure seems to disagree by the shake of her round head and limbs. 

“No, it is not safer that way,” Mister Ingo patiently explains. “There are still wild Pokemon in those tunnels, along with whatever brought Miss Rogue and her fellow passengers here.”

...how are they hearing so much from so few sounds? Those don’t even appear to be words!

Finally the ghost seems to accept their words, drooping sadly. 

If a living chandelier can droop sadly. 

Mister Ingo reaches out to tap at the metal arms. “If Miss Rogue is alright with it, I am more than certain you will see her again.”

Gray eyes turn to her. “Miss Rogue, what would you like? If she bothered you, she does not have to come back.”

Rogue watches Chandelure’s fires glow. A pretty sight and the Pokemon seems okay, even after touching her skin. 

“If she doesn’t touch me again, that’s okay,” she finally settles on. 

Mister Ingo nods. “Very well. I will put it on our itinerary. Now, I have to be on my way to the next train!”

Miz Elesa rises from her seat on the bench. “Alright, see you later then, Ingo. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call!”

The man nods seriously back to her. 

“Of course. I will find Emmet and be back shortly.”

He sweeps around on his heel to march off, Chandelure floating in his wake. 

Whoa. That was...something. 

It was kind of nice to see him again. Still as polite as she remembered. And he apologized, people don’t ever do that. Rogue doesn’t think she minds the thought of seeing him and his Pokemon again. 

“Ready to head back?” Miz Elesa asks, stretching out her arms.

Rogue nods. “I sure am, Miz Elesa.”

Chapter Text

Bruce Banner stares. 

Takes a sip of his tea to check he’s awake. Yep, warm. He’s awake. 

He’s awake and there’s a large bright yellow bug sleeping at DUM-E’s base. The robot rotates its limb to wave at him. 

“Wasn’t expecting that.”

No, what he had been expecting was having the lab to himself except for DUM-E and Jarvis. 

Since the rest of the Avengers were out fighting Pokemon in places where it wouldn’t be safe to let out the Other Guy. 

The bug is...big for an insect. Still can easily fit in the palm of his hand. 

Bright yellow. Fuzzy. Multiple blue eyes with legs the same color. 

It appears like a spider, though it lacks half of the required number of limbs. 

Bruce put can two and two together. It’s most likely a Pokemon too. 

But how did it get here? And why didn’t Jarvis say anything?

“Jarvis, where did this spider come from?” He directs his question at the ceiling. 

“That is...a very good question, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce frowns. The AI doesn’t sound as assured or collected as normal. 

“You don’t know?” He doesn’t mean the note of incredibility in his voice, but the AI is built to keep track of everything that happens in the tower. 

That’s what Tony bragged to him about, anyways. For Jarvis to miss this...well, maybe there’s an excuse. 

It is an insect, even if it’s a bit larger than most Bruce has seen. Not bigger than the tarantulas in the Americas, though. Jarvis is most likely not built to monitor insects.  

Zap! A shock of static electricity, from the spider’s touch. Enough to make his hair stand on end. 

(The Other Guy burns and struggles to see for himself. Bruce holds him back.)

“You’re lucky I was promised a ‘stress free’ environment,” he says dryly. 

The little spider chirps at him. Wiggling its little legs in his direction. Trying to play innocent, as innocent as something so bug-shaped can try to be. 

“...Dr. Banner.” Jarvis sounds off. Nervous, almost. A different tone that Bruce has never heard from him before.

His heartbeat quickens, before he takes a few breaths to steady it.  

(The Other Guy rumbles in his lungs.)

“What is it?” 

“We appear to have an infestation.”

He looks at the little spider crawling on his arm. “Of these? How many make an...infestation?”

Bruce is almost afraid to find out. 

“Over two hundred and counting.” 

Yes, that is the AI definitely sounding stressed. Harassed.

“ Two hundred?!” Bruce repeats. “How do you miss that?” 

“I normally do not keep track of insects in the tower. There may have to be an exception made for cases such as this.”

“Yeah, that might be best. What are they...doing? These two hundred spiders?”

“They appear to be...feeding off of the electricity produced by the Arc Reactor.”

Bruce looks down at the spider again. One little spider eating that electricity, that won’t do any harm. Over a two hundred...that’s dangerous. Especially without knowing how much they eat. 

“We need to get rid of them. Contact Tony to let him know.”

“I am already in the process of doing so.”

Of course he is. 

“Sir and the rest of the Avengers have apparently run into what sir calls ‘a huge fuckin’ rock snake.’ One that disappeared almost immediately after attacking,” Jarvis reports. 

“Also, Natasha Romanoff is currently missing. As is the Conductor.”

To state the obvious...

“That’s not good.”

Chandelure has never run into a human who feels like a Litwick before. 

New. Unprecedented. 

She hums to herself in consideration. Her flames flicker and burn. 

Young Litwicks do have a tendency to not be able to control themselves. They burn and burn and burn a trainer’s life force right along their wick.Causing death, even, should it not be caught in time. 

Seeing how Chandelure had to cut the connection between her and the girl that feels like a Litwick, this girl must be the same. 

Unable to control her hunger. 

Dangerous, because she can’t control her hunger, can only cover up because she seems to feed by skin touch. Like a Yamask. 

Still a hazard, because what if someone else does touch the girl? 

Safety is important, her trainer emphasizes. 

Safety is why Chandelure is still thinking about this Litwick Girl. 

Humans are very silly about her line, Chandelure thinks. 

They accuse them of killing humans outright with their hunger, but only the baby Litwicks do that! Even wild Litwicks and Lampents try not to burn a human’s (or a Pokemon’s) life force too fast, it’s far more productive to let them live to feed off of them later on. Nibbles here and there, better to fill hunger than a quick gulp. 

Strong trainers produce even more energy in the hype of a battle! So why not learn how to coexist with a good trainer and their team? Better for everyone. 

(Ingo feeds her berries and treats too. She loves them. Loves him.)

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule. 

Death dealing Lampents and Chandelures, just like the stories. Who simply don’t care. Those usually come out of Litwicks who never do learn control. 

Something that Chandelure cannot have happen to this human. For everyone’s safety. 

“You seem interested in Miss Rogue,” Ingo notes as he hikes along a side tunnel. 

Chandelure floats by his side, lighting up the darkness as they search. 

Looking for his twin. 

A reminder of times when Chandelure would do the same, with Emmet. Over the long years when Ingo was gone. 

She doesn’t like that reminder. 

“ She’s like a baby Litwick!” Chandelure expresses with a flaring of purple sparks. “You like her too, you want to help her.”

Her trainer tugs at his hat. “...I would like to provide her assistance. It seems that Miss Rogue has gone through many stations without a helping hand. To be a proper conductor is to provide that guidance down our trains!”

He shakes his head. 

“But...she’s been hurt before. She might not want our help.”

Chandelure whistles, “How silly! She really needs it, before someone gets hurt later.”

“Chandelure, we cannot force anyone to take help,” Ingo reminds her. “That would be like expecting the brakes to stop a train right away.” 

“ Still silly,” she hums, swinging her arms around to light their way up ahead.

Ingo’s hand taps at his wrist. Contacting and talking to other humans. 

Chandelure’s always wondered if that method is how Klinklang and other similar Steel types talk to each other, just like how Ingo uses the tool on his wrist. 

A heavy sigh. 

“It appears Nugget has jumped the tracks once again.”

Her flames flare a little brighter. “ Don’t worry, she’s probably with Elesa. She loves that gym a ton. So many things for a little Sneasel to climb on!”

“The wild Pokemon numbers are down and nothing else dangerous has crossed the rails, so her path would have been on steady enough rails.” Ingo sighs again, tugging at his hat. “The others have assured me that I am free to look for Emmet, as long as I keep in contact.”

Chandelure whistles, loud and piercing. Fire leaps up towards the ceiling in joy. 

Ingo’s rare smile lights up the dark just as much as her own flames. 

“All aboard!” he points up ahead. “Onto our next stop!”

She eagerly floats forward, knowing exactly what to do. How to best light every dark corner, to chase any strays away from her trainer. 

Chandelure catches the pop of the Pokeball being opened up. Ingo, taking out the other Pokemon he likes to use nowadays when they traverse the tunnels. 

A growl, a flicking of leathery wings as claws click against the earth. 

“ I’m ready to go!” Gliscor announces. Wide ears flick up over an even wider grin. 

“Keep an ear out,” Ingo instructs, reaching out to rub at one of those ears. 

“I can do that,” the Gliscor purrs, eyes half closed. Taking in the touch just for a moment before she glides upward towards where Chandelure hovers. 

They used to not get along. Two aces on the same team? How rare. A struggle, for Chandelure to feel like she had lost her trainer completely (even after he came back in body) and for Gliscor to realize that she suddenly had to share her role in Hisui with another Pokemon. A Ghost type at that!

There had been more than a few fights as they figured things out. 

But they had in the end. For Ingo’s sake. 

“Anything so far?” Gliscor asks, taking in their surroundings. 

“Calm,” Chandelure answers. “We’re searching for his twin.”

“Emmet? I’ll watch for him!” She flaps her wings. “Are there other things to track?”

Well, the new passenger isn’t exactly something to track, but Chandelure thinks Gliscor should hear about her too. Mostly because it seems Ingo may get further involved with the Litwick Girl. 

“We met a passenger that is a human Litwick. She is very hungry!” Chandelure expounds on. 

“A human Ghost type?” Gliscor folds her ears back. “Scary. Ingo wants to care for her, right?” 

Sparks flash out with her giggles. “That’s right, Ingo wants another passenger.” 

Gliscor huffs with barely suppressed glee, orange eyes gleaming. “Of course he does!” 

“I have a feeling that you two are coupling up on me,” Ingo says from behind them. He taps at his hat. 

“Maybe we are!” Gliscor teases, much more forward than Chandelure has ever been. 

“As long as we keep to our schedule, you may do what you wish,” their trainer acknowledges, eyes sweeping the rocky tunnelway. 

One of the older discontinued railways. Why would Emmet be around here?

Chandelure hums in worry. Oh no no, they cannot lose Emmet. 

(Not like they lost Ingo, that first time.) 

The frown on her trainer’s face increases. One of his hands reaches up to tap at an ear as he stares ahead. 

Gliscor’s ears twitch as well. Confused. “ Wind?” 

“There’s no wind around here...” he mutters.

There’s a flash of white. Could it be-?

“Gliscor, Earth Power! Chandelure, light up the area with Will-O-Wisp!”

She can’t see what they face, nor can she sense what it is quite yet. 

Chandelure trusts her Ingo. 

So she acts as he directs, filling the tunnels with blue firelight. Rocks fly forward to hit whatever their trainer sees. 

The Move hits whatever it is, and whatever it is gives out a loud shriek. Their surroundings appear to shake apart. Finally allowing Chandelure to see what it is. 

A Zorua! A Zorua that feels like a Ghost type, instead of the normal Zorua. Four Zorua, to be exact, all white with red fur. Also, currently scattering themselves due the unexpected breaking of their illusion. 

“Hisuian Zorua? This is not the station they haunt.” Ingo’s frown deepens. “Something is wrong.”

Hisui? The place that stole Ingo away? No, she won’t let them have him! If they try to take him back, well...

Chandelure floats closer to him. 

They’ll have to take Chandelure too!

Gliscor follows her lead, landing to clutch tightly to their trainer’s coat. Able to be close in a way that Chandelure herself can’t manage, how unfair. 

Ingo staggers under the sudden heft. “Gliscor! I am not taking passengers at the moment!”

“Too bad!” Gliscor chirps. “Staying on!” 

“If you must...” Ingo steadies his back to continue onward.

Chandelure readies her power just in case in more of these strange Zorua attack. 

Thankfully, none do as the trio continues onward. 

They reach a more open area (almost a cavern ) that appears more destroyed than the rest of the tunnel so far. More deliberately anyway, more than by time passing. 

Marks of fire on the walls. Scattering of rocks about the area. Gouges in the ground.  

A battle happened here. More than one, maybe. 

“Not the Zorua,” Gliscor rumbles quietly to Chandelure. 

Something else, then. That’s not good. 

Ingo paces the area, eyes intent on taking in every detail. Chandelure helps that action by burning brighter, to chase away the dark. 

Revealing a small device on the ground, abandoned between chunks of rubble. A device that matches the one on Ingo’s wrist. 

The two Pokemon wait silently as their trainer takes to one knee as he scoops the device up. A hand clenches tight enough that both can hear the creaking of the plasticy material.

“I will not lose my brother.”

Natasha has never been fond of waiting for rescue, much less waiting for rescue from her opponent’s allies. 

“Assistance should be here soon,” the Conductor finally says, after a long period of silence between them. His eel curls tighter around him. “There will be no need to worry.”

“I suppose you’ll be taking me captive afterwards, to support your reign of terror,” she says dryly. Almost sarcastically. Like hell he’s going to give her decent lasting medical care. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Natasha pauses. That was...surprise. Actual surprise, not faked as far as she can tell. 

Alright. She’ll explain and watch his reactions carefully. 

“In the New York Subway, there have been attacks by individuals in green uniforms,” she says. “People that have been tearing down the tunnels and tormenting the citizens.”

Gray eyes narrow. 

“That is against the rules. None of the Nimbasa Subway employees would do that.”

Hm, he’s very firm on that. Disagreeing with the blatant chaos that’s been happening. Of course, the man could be faking that disgust. She doesn’t think he is. 

There’s another option, of course. 

“They could be disobeying you,” she suggests. 

“If they are, I will correct them,” is the man’s firm reply. “That is wrong.”

This is...Natasha considers what to do next, shifting on her sore legs. 

Interesting. 

Of course, she doesn’t trust that. She’ll have to see what actually happens during their rescue to make proper judgments. 

Without anything else to say, they sit there in silence once more. 

Until there is the sound of moving rocks above them. 

Thank God. 

The Conductor shifts. Moving to the side as the rocks above them wiggle. “Be cautious!” he calls out. His eel hisses, squishing itself to the side as well. 

A few more minutes pass. Full of more moving rocks and yelling on the other side. Eventually a space is pried open enough for them to both fit through. 

Natasha goes first, the Conductor following after with his eel. 

They’re surrounded by a group of people in familiar green coats. 

Wonderful. 

Natasha slowly crawls off to the side, making sure to settle herself just a little far from them. As far as she can manage without them noticing. 

“Holy shit, that’s the subway boss,” one breathes. 

Natasha finds herself frowning. That’s...not the response you would expect from individuals who had just found their trapped employee.

It seems the Conductor is correct. These are not his employees. 

The man himself rises to his feet, brushing off his white coat. His eel flares out teeth and tentacles behind him. 

“You...do not work for the Battle Subway. Or any of the other Nimbasa subway terminals.” A gloved hand comes up in an aggressive point. “You are imposters. Breaking the rules.”

Oh, that makes the situation...both simpler and more complicated. Different angles that S.H.I.E.L.D. will have to take in response. 

One of these imposters, seeing that their ruse is up, sneers and slouches. “Yeah? What are you going to do about it, subway man?”

“Subway Master,” the man corrects as he adjusts his coat sleeves. His gloves. His smile is all teeth, all sharp ends and points. “I am here to correct this.”

His free hand digs into his coat pocket. The eel at his side hisses, exposing its teeth like its owner. Two fierce creatures more than ready for a fight. 

Their opponents take an unconscious step back, as do their Pokemon. 

In that moment, Natasha realizes that this man had never been taking the Avengers truly seriously. Not like this. Not like they were a threat. 

Out comes another Pokeball. 

“Since you are intent on copying the Battle Subway...I will give you the full Battle Subway experience.”

The ball is tossed out, to release a bright yellow, oversized tarantula . It moves its mandibles in a clear threat display. 

Every green coated individual pulls out Pokemon of their own. Flaming camels and gray-black dogs and blue eyeless bats, all scattered to fill the tunnel. 

“Get ‘em!” the first commands. 

Natasha watches from where she’s taken shelter behind the rubble that once trapped them. Taking in every detail she can. 

The Conductor and his Pokemon may be outnumbered, but even so, it’s more than clear that they’ll still win. 

Where their opponents are constantly getting in each other’s way, the spider and the eel cover each other expertly. Both produce sparks of electricity to attack, but the spider also seems to produce some kind of poison in its bite. 

The Conductor directs them with word and gesture, showing how well the codename picked for him suits him. 

Victory is almost guaranteed to be his. 

“Stand down. Or this pretty woman gets it.”

There’s a blade pressed against her throat. She hasn’t been caught off guard like this in years. 

Natasha grimaces. She is never going to mention this. Ever. Not even in a report. Clint wouldn’t let her live it down. Her reputation ruined. 

She’s supposed to be prepared for anything, after all. Even faster than human monsters with swords for hands. Not getting distracted by flashing battles. 

The creature in question presses harder against her throat. Almost drawing blood. The monster’s owner is dressed in dark colors, and by the way they hold themselves and act...clearly an assassin of some kind.

Natasha breathes. Focuses. Where can she find a weakness, she’ll have to find a quick way out, there’s no way this man will surrender for he-

The Conductor doesn’t hesitate. 

“Eelektross, Galvantula, return.” Those two Pokemon disappear into his Pokeballs. Which he then makes to return to his belt. 

The assassin shakes their head. “You will hand those over.”

The Conductor narrows his eyes, mouth thinning on his face. 

Assassin snaps their fingers, and the sword does draw blood. Natasha stills. 

“Verrry well.” The Conductor offers five Pokeballs to one of the thugs that had attacked them earlier, the thug in question waved up by the assassin. 

The thug sneers as he takes the balls, taking the opportunity to shoulder-check the white coated man backwards. Said man staggers back but otherwise does not respond. 

“That’s all of them?” Assassin asks, unmoved. 

“Yes.” The man reaches up to tug at his hat. “That is all of my Pokemon.”

On what Natasha can see on that assassin’s face is a smile. Cold and the exact opposite of whatever expression the Conductor’s been wearing on his face almost this entire time. 

“Good. You will make a useful hostage.”

“What about her?” The Conductor asks, gray eyes going to Natasha. Where she’s still pinned on the ground by the sword-beast. 

The assassin shrugs. Gestures to the sword-beast, which then slowly moves its limb away from her neck. Backing off. “She can come too. Bisharp, let her up. You right there, grab her.”

Natasha gets roughly grabbed by another green coated individual. She allows herself to gasp in pain as he yanks at her arm, gripping right around her bruises. 

Doesn’t do anything to stop it, of course, but they may take her visible signs of pain as a sign she can’t handle herself. 

She doesn’t expect the Conductor to start towards her, only to be shoved back once again. 

He argues on her behalf, gesturing in her direction. “She is injured, do not be rough with hurt passengers!”

“You can’t do anything about that,” the man currently holding onto Natasha growls. “Shut up.”

“Also, before I forget...” The assassin points to the Conductor’s wrist. To the watch there. “Take that off. We’re leaving it behind.”

Gloved fingers reach to the wristband of said watch, slowly undoing it. 

With her sharp eyes, she catches that he’s tapping something into the device even as he takes it off. 

“Drop it. Now.”

The assassin has probably seen that too, by the sharpness of their voice in that command. 

The Conductor drops the watch on the ground. “You will regret this.”

He states this simply. Not a threat, but a promise. 

“Not as much as you will for standing up against the might of our lord,” the assassin says. 

Natasha stiffens. She doesn’t like the sound of that. Fanatics, she hates dealing with fanatics. Worse than mere mercenaries. 

“Move,” the assassin commands, walking ahead of them. Their bladed monster follows close behind. 

Leaving Natasha and the Conductor to the thugs. 

Said thugs don’t hesitate to throw their weight around. Vengeance for their poor showing earlier, no doubt. 

“You heard the boss, get going!” A violent push from behind leaves Natasha staggering into the man that’s still holding onto the Conductor (who looks very uncomfortable). She falls onto him, nearly tumbling them both over.

“Hey, watch it!” 

Another rushes to pull her away, forcing her forwards. 

All parties unaware that Natasha has accomplished what she was truly aiming for, knocking into that thug. The one who had in fact disarmed the Conductor in the first place. 

She slides a shrunken Pokeball out of sight. Snapped up from the man she had stumbled into. 

More difficult to hide than, say, a card. But she’ll be able to manage hiding the device despite that added difficulty. Especially since these people haven’t checked her for any weapons. 

She’s still armed. 

Her Widow Bites are charged, ready to be used. On the humans, of course. She has her doubts it will work on any of the monsters she’s seen recently. Especially the ones throwing around electricity of their own. 

They think her weak. She’ll let them. Best in the long run. 

When they let their guard down...she’ll be ready. 

-Nugget may be at your station currently. 

Elesa looks up from Ingo’s message. Eyes the torn up decorative curtains. Shredded by tiny claws. 

“Yeah, she definitely is.”

She sends him an update, assuring him she’ll make sure no serious mess is made in the process of shepherding the little Pokemon back to her home.

Nugget loves playing around in the dressing rooms, covering herself up in fabric and hiding herself in the various clothes in there. Messy at times, but better that than attempting to climb onto the roller coaster.   

Really, Nugget’s fun. But it’s the wrong time for her arrival, considering they have a bunch of people who know nothing about Pokemon in their back rooms right now. Those people do not need a small Poison-Fighting Pokemon trying to beg treats off of them. Not when, again, they don’t even really know what a Pokemon is. 

...best to warn them. Just in case. 

Elesa makes her way to the mentioned back rooms.

Ugh, how her feet ache. She really should have changed footwear earlier, she’s not meant to be running around like this all over the city in these kind of heels. 

Some of her employees are already there, talking to the people about various topics. Keeping their minds off of how far they must be from home, taking their complaints. Good. She’ll have to offer them raises. Or maybe some extended vacations. 

She catches the nearest by the elbow, whispers to them about the possible Sneasel.

Elesa receives a nod in return. “Thank you for telling me, I’ll watch for her.”

“Good, thank you, you’re doing excellent work!”

Everyone’s looking good, except...

Hm. 

Rogue’s keeping to herself in the back. Eying some of the fancy mirrors, looking extremely ragged in comparison to everyone else in the vicinity. Hunched in layers, Ingo’s uniform gloves still on and the cleanest part of her. 

Elesa can’t help but compare the look to when they first got Ingo back, torn and shredded and looking like he had aged over a decade since his disappearance. 

She taps at her earphones with a perfectly manicured nail. She has time, doesn’t she? Time enough to try talking with her again. Under the excuse of a warning, maybe that will help. 

Elesa strides towards her, clearing her throat.

The girl jumps. “Yes, Miz Elesa?”

“I told you you don’t need to call me that...” Elesa rubs a hand on the back of her neck. What does she say? How does she put this?

“Did you ever meet Nugget?” Elesa blurts out, half worried that Rogue will have no idea what she’s talking about. 

Thankfully, the girl nods. 

“Well, she’s wandering around here, just be careful.”

“I’ll keep an eye out, Miz Elesa,” the girl promises solemnly. 

“Be careful that she doesn’t catch you with her claws by accident, should you see her,” Elesa advises. 

Rogue pauses. “What about her claws?”

Her eyes are curious, not fearful, so Elesa elaborates. “She’s a Poison Type, so she has poison in her claws. Not a lot, because she’s still little. But it’s best to be careful!”

“Poison Type? Are you not supposed to touch any of them?”

Elesa’s eyes flick to the gloves the girl still insists on wearing. Yeah, she can guess why Rogue is so interested in this topic. Like how the twins got so interested in the Klink evolution line along with their trains. 

Except this interest seems a bit more...trauma related. Why wouldn’t a type of Pokemon that can hurt with a touch appeal to a girl who has been hurt by touch?

“Most of them, it’s best to be careful with how you touch them. A few will poison on contact, though,” Elesa says. 

“Do you know which ones?”

Elesa laughs. “No, I’m no living Pokedex. You might be able to get answers from Ingo or Emmet, they see a lot more different types of Pokemon than I do!”

Rogue flinches back at her laugh. “Oh. I’m sorry, Miz Elesa.” 

Oh no, she didn’t mean to do that! What does she do, she’s not meant for this!

“No, no, it’s fine,” Elesa rushes to reassure her. “...do you want to see either of them again?”

“Not if they’re busy, Miz Elesa.”

Right. She makes a mental note to mention this to the twins later. Maybe put a little emphasis on not mentioning how much they work to the girl, in a future meeting. 

What does she say next? To calm the girl’s nervousness?

“Elesa?” Nikola calls from the doorway.

“What is it?”

“Someone from the subway’s here to see you.”

Ah. 

“Duty calls, sorry,” Elesa flashes a winning smile in Rogue’s direction as she turns. “I’ll talk to you again later, ‘kay?”

She doesn’t quite catch an answer, hurrying to catch whoever’s here to see her.

It’s not Emmet. Or Ingo. They would have let her know they were coming. 

So which of their employees have they sent?

Near the front, loiters a man dressed in the green uniform of Nimbasa Subway. 

Elesa almost frowns but hides it behind a winning smile just in time. She doesn’t recognize them. Plus the way they’re wearing that coat and shirt...messy. Not up to code at all. 

The back of her mind remembers what Emmet said about missing uniforms. The rest of her puts her best foot forward to ask, “What is it?”

“The Subway Masters have something to talk to you about.” The man tugs at his ill fitting hat nervously. 

Clearly a trap. She’ll spring it. 

After she lets her contacts know first. Texting the twins, Skyla, a few others...there!

“Okay, let’s go.”

The stranger leads her off to one of the control rooms. Okay, that’s interesting. She definitely needs to know what they’re doing, messing around in there! 

Are they here to take out the roller coasters? 

“Here we are.”

There’s a strange box in the middle of the room full of screens and switches and the like. She eyes but dismisses it for the moment to focus on the person who’s led her here. It’s important, sure, but she needs to figure out why she’s here first. 

“Hey, I hope you didn’t think I thought you worked for the Subway Masters, right? Because I know you don’t,” she calls out.

The fake freezes, shoulders hunching up. 

“When did you realize?” he asks. 

“At the start. Ha, I’m not stupid enough to fall for your Liepard-ing.” Elesa smiles. 

It’s not a nice one, the kind of ‘I’m sick of your bullshit’ model smile she’s perfected over the years. Perfect for occasions like this one. 

She taps her foot against the ground, arms folded across her chest. “What are you guys up to, hmmm? Can’t be anything good if you stole that to wear.”

Someone steps out of the shadows. Wearing...a Team Plasma uniform. But not the usual. One of the elites. 

Elesa narrows her eyes at them. “Team Plasma...should have known.”

Her fingers rub at her Zebstrika’s Pokeball. Ready to take them down. Interrogate them for the twins. “Let’s fi-”

The Shadow grins. “Not today. You fight me, I will destroy everything. In Lord Ghetsis’ name.”

Wait, what?

“What do you mean by that?”

The Shadow pats at the strange box. “Take a guess what this is.”

Elesa squints in their direction, taking in the details. It doesn’t seem familiar, but the way the Shadow seems to be treating it-

“Is that a bomb!?”

“Yes. In fact, to prove our intentions...” The Shadow snaps their fingers. The bomb-box lights up. With a countdown in red. For up to...three hours. “Try destroying it with your Electric type Pokemon.”

Elesa eyes them warily. “I don’t think I will.”

She’s not stupid, you know. If an enemy wants you to try something, it’s never good for you to follow up on that. 

“Then I will show you. Absol, Night Slash!”

Said Pokemon obliges, hitting the bomb with their claws from the shadows. 

Before her horrified eyes, the countdown speeds up. Losing her an entire hour. 

“Any time you try to destroy this bomb with a Pokemon move, you will lose time. With an Electric Pokemon, the bomb will merely..increase in power,” the Shadow boasts. 

Elesa grips her hands into fists. “What do you want from me?” 

The Shadow waves back their growling Absol, head tilted cockily. 

“You will stay here, unless you want me to blow up the entire gym. And take out part of Nimbasa in the process.”

The Shadow is confident. Too confident for them to be exaggerating the threat. 

Elesa grits her teeth. When did Team Plasma grow a brain? This plan is much more clever than any of their plotting in the past. 

“You won’t get away with this!”

She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth. How cliche!

The Shadow regards her with amusement in their flat eyes. “We already have.”

Alright, that was even more cliche. 

They jerk their head towards the doorway. “We will be leaving you here. Come on.”

Their minion (and Pokemon) follow obediently in the Shadow’s wake, closing the door behind them. 

She tries the door after. Just in case. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t open. 

Elesa taps at her earphones in thought. She still has her phone...try that. 

Turning it on, she has no signal. No way to call or text. An impossibility in the heart of Nimbasa. 

“Seems you’ve taken care of that too.”

Again, too smart for Team Plasma. They’re either being directed by someone else or got some serious advice sometime over the last few years of radio silence. 

She sighs, leaning back against the door. 

Yeah, she may have let her contacts know that she was walking into a possible trap, but she wasn’t expecting a bomb. They might not be prepared for that!

Elesa can’t do nothing. It’s her responsibility as Gym Leader to go up against threats to both Nimbasa and Unova. But what can she do from in here?

Her eyes flick up to the vent above her head. 

Right. 

She calls out one of her Emolga. 

“Hey, boy,” she greets him, ruffling his ears. “There’s something I need you to do for me!”

Emolga chirps, ears going up as he rests on his haunches to look up at her. 

“You see that?” She points to the vent. The Pokemon looks at it and nods. “I need you to crawl to that to get help!”

The Emolga stares at her. Rubs at his own fur as he does. “Ee!”

“Worried about getting dirty? I’ll clean you up after!” She promises.  

Big dark eyes look politely skeptical. 

“...and get you your favorite poffins.”

Emolga’s ears go boing! Just like the Pokemon himself as he scrabbles up onto the wall, pushing himself into the vent. 

Leaving her behind. 

Just her and a ticking bomb. Ticking off second by second.  

Great. 

Chapter Text

Rogue...doesn’t know what to do. She’s sitting by herself now, trying to figure out the next steps of her life. 

Because she’s not actually sure if she wants to go...back. 

Oh, she knows she should. She doesn’t belong here, with her skin that can bring death with a touch and no knowledge of the resident monsters that’s of any use. 

But she doesn’t belong back on her own world either. She can’t even call it home anymore. 

Would the people here still help her, if they knew the truth? What she was?

What does she do? What does she choose? 

The floor’s clothes...they’re moving. Drawing her attention out of her thoughts. 

Rogue stares at the wiggling lump under the pile of fallen clothes. 

Too small to be a person, it could be...

“Nugget?” 

The cloth moves enough for Rogue to catch red eyes. Nugget chirps at her, waving her claws. 

Rogue eyes said claws warily. Supposed to be covered in poison, that’s what Miz Elesa said. Best be careful. Well, more careful than she usually is. 

“I think I’ll...let someone else know,” she decides under her breath. 

There’s that employee still here. Maybe she can contact Miz Elesa and let her know about Nugget. 

The lights in the room go out. 

Here, the darkness doesn’t last long. Pretty much everyone lights up a smartphone, screens serving as makeshift flashlights. Except for Rogue, since she kind of lost her phone a few days ago. 

(Read: someone stole it and she doesn’t have any money to replace it or get anyone to give it back.)

But having the lights go out in the first place, all at the same time...

Rogue shivers, hugging herself. Reminds her too much of how the subway train she was on behaved before she and the other showed up here, in the strange world full of Pokemon. 

Something, she feels down in her gut, has gone terribly wrong. 

The employee that’s been talking with Rogue’s fellow subway riders also seems to think something has gone wrong. 

“Sorry, I need to go check on what’s happening right now,” the woman apologizes, swiftly moving over to the door to peek through. 

From what Rogue can tell, it’s also dark out there. With a faint glow of red. 

Emergency lights, if she had to guess. 

Another red glow comes from the eyes of Nugget next to her. 

The Sneasel(?) rumbles at her, scooting closer. 

Rogue freezes at the patting touch the Pokemon gives her covered up arm with the back of her claws. Like she’s trying to...comfort Rogue. 

“Please don’t.”

Nugget sniffs at her, Rogue catching a blurry outline of her head feather moving back and forth. 

“Please stay in here while I talk to my coworkers,” the employee says cheerily, moments before she squeezes out through the door into the red-lit hallway. 

Everyone else instantly bursts out into whispers. Speculating. 

“Is it really safe here?” one muses. “I mean, I’ve seen all kinds of monsters so far...”

“Are we sure they’re going to get us back home?”

“They don’t have any reason not to.”

“Asked all those questions about home-”

“But what if they’re gonna invade?”

Rogue bites her lip. Chokes back her words, because she can’t afford to draw the attention of these strangers. But they’re wrong. 

They have to be, because surely the people who have been the first to listen to her when she says she doesn’t want to be touched, who try to help her and talk to her, can’t be villains. 

Not the kind of villains who would want to invade a shithole like New York City at least.

Even when Rogue doesn’t want their help...they’re the first ever to actually offer it. None of these complainers would ever do that for someone like her. Not in a million years.  

“I don’t think they will.”

Oops. She spoke. Now everyone is staring at her. Just what she’s been trying to avoid this entire time, keeping to her corner. 

Her cheeks are warm. She ducks down to hide what’s probably going on in her face right now the best she can. 

(Not that they can probably see it, in this darkness.)

They’re saying things and she needs to be listening. 

“You’re the girl they’ve been talking so much to! C’mon, tell us, what’re you talking about?”

“Nothing important.”

One woman narrows her eyes at Rogue. “Are you certain? If there’s anything...terrible going on, you can tell us.”

Rogue swallows the bile rising in her throat. They don’t care. They just want rumors and secrets, they don’t care if anything bad is actually happening to Rogue. 

Well, they might. 

But the way that this woman is asking, the way they’re all watching her with hungry eyes...

No. 

“Nothing important,” she repeats and retreats back to her corner. Allowing Nugget to huddle against her. 

She may have poison, but that poison is much easier to handle than the poison of her fellow human beings in the dark. 

Might as well wait for the lights to come on again, instead of looking for someone who can take Nugget. Rogue can handle this. 

Probably.

(Just don’t touch. Just don’t let anyone touch.)

Banging from the vent. Rogue watches, heart in her throat, as something pushes at the vent and falls from the ceiling. Near her feet. 

It’s a...flying squirrel thing? Dusty looking. 

It chitters at her, sparks lighting up around yellow cheek patches. Bringing a little light to the darkness. Enough to reveal black and white and yellow fur, under the dust. 

“Hello?” 

The electric flying squirrel flicks its tail. Starts moving towards the door to scratch at it. Clearly wanting to be let through. 

Rogue rests her gloved hand on the doorknob. She opens the door and the little squirrel creature slides out. But it doesn’t move far.

It flicks its tail again. At her. Beckoning. 

Nugget also crawls out, settling down next to the other Pokemon. Red eyes look up at her. Waiting for her. They’re both clearly waiting for her to follow. 

Rogue hesitates. 

Should...she go out after it? The squirrel and Nugget. 

“Better than staying here.” With these people.  

The people in question finally seem to notice what she’s doing. 

“Wait, you should-!” 

They reach out to her. Of course they do, that’s what everyone does. Natural response, right? But they draw back just as quickly. Of course they do, that’s the next step everyone takes. 

(Do they really care?)

Rogue slips through the doorway, closing the door up behind her. 

Nugget’s feather goes up. She chirps at Rogue, pats her leg. 

The electric flying squirrel chitters. Seeming...pleased? How can Rogue even tell that? 

Maybe she’s just making stuff up. Trying to find meaning where there isn’t any. 

She turns her attention to their surroundings. 

Yep, the halls are definitely being lit up from red emergency lights!

Very ominous looking. Great.

Nugget, of course, already scrambles ahead after the electric squirrel. The electric squirrel that is currently racing down the dark halls. 

“Wait for me!” Rogue hisses, hurrying to catch up. 

There’s someone that Rogue literally bounces into, standing in the way. She quickly backs up, don’t touch, don’t touch.  

A man. Broad and wearing a green coat, he’s glaring at her. 

“What’s a brat like you doing around here?”

Okay. So not a good guy. 

The lightning squirrel gets in between them. Nugget is at Rogue’s side. Glaring. 

The man scoffs. “An Emolga? Like that can do anything against my Poochyena!”

He releases a gray and black dog that bears its fangs in a growl, yellow eyes glowing. A shadow that almost blends in with the darkness. 

But the Emolga sparks again. Bringing light to the dark, letting Rogue see. 

“Miii!” 

By Rogue’s side, Nugget hisses. Showing off her claws. 

“Poochyena, Bite!” the man orders. 

Emolga cries out as the dog Pokemon dives forward to hook in with dark energy coming from its fangs. Biting down hard. Hurting Emolga. 

What does Rogue do? She doesn’t know what to do. 

“Leave it alone!” 

The man laughs at her. “You’re a newbie! Fresh meat! What are you doing wandering around here?”

He smiles, looking every inch a predator. As much as his own Pokemon. 

“Easy to beat down.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, sir!” A woman’s voice calls out. “Flaaffy! Thunder!”

A pink sheep lights the hall up with lightning, striking the attacking dog with thunderous force. There’s a woman in a wide-brimmed hat standing behind it. 

Wearing a white dress, looking like a fancy well-made up lady. 

“Breaking League rules?” The man sneers. “I thought you gym peons were above that.”

“You have broken League rules first! Retreat before I make you,” the woman demands, hands on her hips. 

Looking every inch the scorned debutante that Rogue recalls meeting once or twice, when she still lived with her family. 

(Before she became...other.)

Also, this particular woman...hasn’t Rogue seen her before?

“You’ll regret this!” he threatens, Poochyena vanishing in red light. Red light not unlike the emergency lights. 

The woman watches him leave instead of chasing after him, calling back her pink two-legged sheep. 

Staying with Rogue. 

“Are you alright?” Brown eyes look Rogue and the Pokemon over.

“The Poochyena bit Emolga,” Rogue admits.

“I can fix that. Emolga, do you need a Potion?” She directs her next question at the Pokemon itself, like she expects an answer. 

The Pokemon shakes its head.  

But why is Rogue even surprised? Mister Ingo and Miz Elesa had treated Chandelure like a person, like she would understand their scolding after touching Rogue’s face. 

She takes a breath. Tugs at her borrowed gloves. 

“I’m Rogue.”

“I am Lady Colette,” the woman helpfully introduces herself. Reintroduces herself?

Rogue nods, committing the name to memory. 

Lady Colette glances at the Emolga. “I see you have my boss’s Emolga. Thank you for watching over him.”

The Emolga flicks its ears. Almost smiling, in a way. 

“Gym Leader Elesa,” she clarifies when Rogue doesn’t understand. 

“Emolga is Miz Elesa’s?” 

Then why was it staying around her, instead of getting some people who can actually help?

The Emolga chirps, sitting on its haunches. His haunches. 

“Why is he with me?” 

“He must like you.”

Really. Is it that simple? Rogue looks at the little squirrel. That’s...

She doesn’t know what to do about that. With some effort, she drags her attention back to what Lady Colette is saying. About the lights?

“With the lights like this...” Lady Colette chews at her lip. “Someone must have gotten into the main control room and shut everything down. Going there to check it out will be our first priority. Sorry, Emolga.”

The Pokemon doesn’t seem too bothered by Lady Colette’s words, busily grooming his fur. 

“If you like, you can come with me.”

Go with Lady Colette and the Pokemon or go back to a room full of people she can’t trust at all. Hard decision. No, not really. 

Rogue makes her choice. 

“I’ll come.”

“That’s good. If you want, you can battle as well to help,” she offers. 

That...Rogue doesn’t know anything about Pokemon battling, but looking at how both the Emolga and Nugget seem excited by the thought of fighting with her, dancing around her feet...

She might want to know more now. To help. 

Rogue hates to admit this but...

“I don’t know what they can do.”

“Don’t worry, I have a ScanDex on me...” She brings out a phone to tap at. “I can tell you what Moves each Pokemon has so you can use them in battle.”

“Me? Use them to fight?” Rogue knows that the cartoon was all about fighting, what little she heard of it, but this woman is trusting her with her boss’s Pokemon? And one that belongs to Misters Ingo and Emmet?

Why? 

Why do people keep...doing that here?

(Why do they reach out and keep their hands out for her? Why do they mean it?)

“I will not leave you defenseless,” Lady Colette says simply. “Others will come like the first to challenge us.”

Rogue tugs at her gloves. Tangible proof of...everything that’s happened here so far. Proof that she might...never mind. Doesn’t matter. 

She looks at the Emolga and Nugget. Swallows. “Will you fight for me?”

Nugget bounces, tugging at her pants. Chittering in excited agreement. 

The Emolga lights his yellow fur up with sparks as he also chirps up at her, eyes bright.

“They are more than happy to help,” Lady Colette translates. 

That’s...

Okay. 

Rogue...she’ll do her best. She won’t let them get hurt or hurt them. 

Do her best. 

(When has her best been enough?)

Emmet hates this ongoing touching. 

People are simply. The worst. Especially these Team Plasma grunts that keep shoving him and the red haired woman around. 

They’re probably new recruits. Foreign. They don’t seem to understand what kind of importance there is to the coats they wear without a care. 

Disorganized! Messy. Everything against the proper rules. 

They’re taking him away and that’s bad enough. He can’t leave Ingo behind. 

Not like this. Not ever. 

What does he do now? 

Emmet keeps a careful eye on the Shadow. They’ve recalled their Bisharp, good, but they’re fast enough that Emmet isn’t sure anything can be done while they’re still around. Not good. 

His eyes catch movement. In a pouch by the Shadow’s side. He watches as the Shadow dips into it to pull a phone. A buzzing phone. 

The Shadow answers it. “Report.”

Very faintly, on the other end, just barely, Emmet catches the scream of a Gliscor. 

Ingo!

“You’ve run into who?”

There appears to be nothing more, as the Shadow snaps their phone shut soon after. 

The Shadow huffs. “I will take care of this.”

They gesture towards the tunnels ahead. “Take them to the next checkpoint.”

Poof. Just like that, the Shadow vanishes. Fades into the darkness to most likely seek out his brother. 

Leaving Emmet and the woman to the grunts, to figure out what to do next. 

He can’t let them hurt Ingo!

“Where are you taking us?” Emmet asks. He’d like an answer, sure, but he’s pretty sure they will not give him one. A good one, at least. 

Sure enough, they don’t. 

“We’re taking you somewhere no one will ever be able to find you!” Team Plasma thugs cackle and Emmet makes a mental note to put the fear of the Subway Masters in them. Once he gets his Pokemon back. 

The woman speaks. Calm. In control. 

“I don’t think you will.”

The grunt holding the woman blinks. “What’d you mean by that?”

She... moves. 

Takes out the thug holding her with a hit to the neck, and while they’re still dropping to the ground, she moves onto the rest. 

Every move efficient, none made without a purpose. The grunts of course reach for their Pokemon, too slow. Not enough against a woman whose weapon is her own body. 

Soon they’re surrounded by groaning bodies. All taken down by a short red haired woman that looks like she could be blown over by a Whirlwind. 

Like an expert human martial artist. One that’s studied alongside Fighting Types.

Very good! Bravo, as Ingo would say. 

But he has other duties to attend to, over awe. 

Emmet right away moves to the Plasma grunt that took his Pokemon away. Searches them for the balls, heaving silent sighs of relief when he finds them. 

Finds all but one. 

“Galvantula...where are you?”

He can’t leave her behind!

“Looking for this?”

The woman is holding up the missing Pokeball. Clear for him to see. 

“Who are you?” Emmet abruptly asks. He cannot keep thinking of her as ‘that woman’ forever. Though he’ll most likely put the name aside once they have reached their final destination. 

“I am Black Widow.”

Black Widow? She’s certainly wearing black...but she was married? What kind of title was that? Certainly less clear than ‘Subway Master’ or ‘The Shining Beauty.’ 

“What is your name?” he repeats. 

The woman gives him a considering look. “...you can call me Agent Romanoff.”

An agent. Like from this world’s version of Interpol, possibly. No wonder she fought so well without Pokemon. Having Team Plasma interfere with a foreign agent, that’s a trainwreck!

Emmet does not want to be dealing with cross-region politics again. But he might have to, due to Team Plasma. 

Another reason to kick their asses even more this time. By Ingo’s side. 

“I need to get back to my brother.” Emmet stares Agent Romanoff down. 

Agent Romanoff blinks long and slow. Lets him see it, he knows what faking it looks like. 

(He’s studied himself in the mirror long enough to know.)

“Your brother?” 

He folds his arms across his chest, to stop them from swinging back and forth.

“Yes. We are a two car train. I must return.”

She rolls Galvantula’s Pokeball over in her hand. “You could leave. Right now. I’m not stopping you.”

...does this woman think he’s stupid? 

He points to the Pokeball. “You have my Pokemon. I will not leave without her.”

She frowns. “You’re saying this is more important than the brother you so badly need to find?”

For a moment, Emmet’s brain goes completely blank. Derailed by that complete lack of comprehension. 

“She is not a tool!” he finally manages to spit out, his words reaching Ingo’s level of volume. “I will not leave her to you to treat her as one, Agent Romanoff!”

Emmet is bad at words. But some things need to be said, no matter how bad he is. 

She’s looking at him and he has no idea what she means by it. 

This is simply...bad. He does not like this.

“...would any of those imposters of yours come back for their Pokemon?”

That, Emmet actually has to take a moment to think on. Because people are not all good and treat their Pokemon well like they should, you don’t work with the public and not learn that. 

Mistreatment of Pokemon is certainly not uncommon in the underworld. Some would claim it is more common, actually. 

Maybe it is, maybe it is not. Emmet doesn’t study abuse statistics, his numbers are train focused ones!

But still...

“I think they would,” Emmet decides. “But not all of them might. And that is wrong of them. Not approved!”

Agent Romanoff hums to herself. Galvantula’s Pokeball weighs down her hand. 

“Give her back.” He points at the Pokeball, to avoid any misunderstanding. “You may come with me as I return to my track.”

“Even after I...?” She gestures to the unconscious people on the ground. Holds up the Pokeball for him to see. 

“Give her back,” Emmet repeats. “I am Emmet. I do not care about that.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” Agent Romanoff suggests. 

“No. I need to find my brother.” Not on his life!

Agent Romanoff’s lips pinch. He’s better than Ingo at reading such facial expressions, so Emmet is sure that she’s being annoyed by this. 

That’s usual. 

Emmet doesn’t care, like he said. 

Customers get annoyed all the time when riding the trains. By the noises of other passengers, by being late...Emmet has dealt with it all. 

The annoyance of this woman is nothing new. Even with the woman being able to take out an entire group of grunts with her bare hands. 

“It seems we are at an impasse.” 

Hm. This woman could just knock him out, Emmet thinks. But for some reason, she won’t. He wonders why. 

“Why do you want me to come with you?”

“You have answers that my people need,” is her answer. 

Because they don’t know what Pokemon are, according to Miss Rogue. 

“Do you have an XTranseciever?” 

“A what?” She looks taken aback by the sudden change in topic. People usually are. Ingo is so very much better at this than he is. 

“The watch Team Plasma took from me.” Emmet taps at his wrist. At the missing space. “I will find it and talk to my brother. You will give me my Pokemon back.”

Natasha knows what the smart thing to do is. 

She’s done the smart thing countless times, did it most recently fighting against Loki and the Chitauri. 

She should take the Conductor out. 

Knock him unconscious and drag him to S.H.I.E.L.D. Get real answers out of him about this world they’ve so recently come into violent contact with. 

She should do that.

She doesn’t want to. 

Natasha owes this man, the Conductor, for defending her like he did. He didn’t have to stand down when she was under threat. 

But he did. 

Also...

(“She is not a tool!” )

Her hand tightens around the ball. There’s a Pokemon stored inside, a ‘she’ that the Conductor won’t leave behind. Not even for his brother, and that’s a concern. Especially if this brother fights with Pokemon as well as the Conductor does. 

Emmet. That’s the Conductor’s name. 

He fights with monsters that can cause earthquakes and call down lightning bolts, but he treats them like family. Labels them with the same weight as family, because the man has a brother but also won’t leave this Pokemon behind. 

Whatever it may be. 

(“Remember, you are only a tool. Only a Black Widow.”)

This is not the same. It can never be the same. 

Natasha has locked away her feelings over and over again, for the sake of the greater good. 

This can be simply another to add to the list. 

(“Hey, what’s your favorite food? Wanna go Dutch with some Chinese?” A fool of an archer, reaching out where no one else will. Too afraid of her reputation.)

“I need to talk to my team.” 

Still, she delays.

The Conductor’s face twists into an almost frown. “Oh yes, the other fighters. Verrry rude, that man with the armor.”

Natasha almost wants to laugh. Because rude is the politest way she’s heard anyone refer to Tony Stark’s everything . 

The Conductor taps his gloved fingers together. “How do you contact your team?”

Usually...

“My comms are fried,” she admits. Showing a weakness. See if that will tempt the man away. 

“Hmm.” His fingers tap a beat against his belt, where he’s resettled his other Pokemon in their balls. “So you are a passenger in need of a safe track back to your home station.”

The man uses a lot of train terms, but that’s easy enough to understand.

“Yes.”

The Conductor lets out a huff of breath. 

“As Subway Master, it is my duty to escort passengers to their destination. Yet it is also my duty to let my coworkers know that I am doing that. There are many rules.”

Hm. So that’s almost a no to getting her back to the Avengers. 

But...Natasha considers the situation. If the Conductor refuses to come with her or the Avengers to give them answers, then she needs to get answers a different way. 

If she helps the man find his brother...well, he might feel like he owes her. He’s been polite enough that Natasha believes he’ll definitely try to pay a perceived debt back. 

Answers about the people that attacked them, more about Pokemon, the Conductor could answer a lot in a peaceful environment. 

Plus there’s nothing like seeing a possible enemy on their home ground...

“I’ll give you the Pokemon back and go with you,” she decides. “My team can take care of themselves.”

Natasha will just have to leave a message for them somewhere...

He tilts his hat, an uncanny gray eye staring out at her from underneath. “Will you?”

Her lips quirk. She casually tosses the ball over to where the man barely manages to catch it. 

She saunters in his direction. 

“Take me to your leader.”

Not for the first time in his life, Clint Barton wishes that he knew when to keep his mouth shut. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be dealing with everyone expecting that he has answers. A really weird feeling, because that’s what the eggheads like Stark and Banner are for. Not some circus carnie whose claim to fame is a whole lotta bullseyes. 

They should be looking for Nat, not this. 

“Stop asking me what the weird electric bug is, I don’t know!” 

Look, just because the kids got into the cartoon and he found the subject kind of interesting doesn’t make him an expert!

The Avengers look at the bug itself.

Bruce had been holding the little thing when they got back, just sitting there with a fuzzy palm-sized yellow spider on his hand. Watching it crawl around.  

Not hurting anyone, just...existing. 

Honestly, Clint would rather deal with an electric bug than some kind of ghost or psychic like one of those that showed up in the show. 

Wait. Electric bug. 

“I guess we could call it an actual lightning bug, right?” Clint grins. 

Bruce groans. “Why would you make that pun?” 

“That was pretty bad,” Steve agrees. 

“So awful, I’m almost proud.” Tony leans forward to look at the ‘lightning bug.’ “More of a spider than the typical lightning bug, though.”

The spider buzzes. It wiggles its front legs at them, blue eyes flashing. 

“So what do we know about it, Jarvis?” Tony turns his attention to his AI for answers. 

“It feeds off of electricity,” Jarvis volunteers. 

Tony frowns. “Is that going to be a problem, with the amount you said there were?”

Look, stuff like this is why it’s good that Pokemon isn’t a real thing. Wasn’t a real thing. Because normally people don’t have to worry about their wildlife causing natural disasters or city wide blackouts or extreme stuff like that. 

“At the moment I remain uncertain, due to the difficulty of getting accurate readings from the electricity these ‘Pokemon’ give off.”

“How did they even get here?” Tony groans, scratching around the arc reactor in his chest. 

“And this is just the latest part of the mess.” Steve Rogers shakes his head. “What else has there been so far...those living rocks, the green coat attackers, the bats...”

Because it’s not been just the green coated people or the Conductor. Especially not since Nat vanished with the Conductor. 

There’s been Pokemon popping up all over the place and vanishing just as quickly again in spouts of blue energy, but not before causing some small disaster. Car crashes, broken windows...a lot of messes. 

They’re lucky no one’s gotten seriously hurt yet. 

Clint’s lucky that S.H.I.E.L.D. 's also recruited a few nerds from the analytical staff to figure out what kind of Pokemon have been attacking. 

Not that it’s really saved Clint from his teammates poking at him about the monsters. 

“Plus these spiders...”

“They don’t seem harmful,” Bruce offers. “In fact, DUM-E seems to like them.”

The Avengers all glance over at the robot, which waves its single arm in apparent agreement. The spider wiggles its legs back, spitting sparks. 

Sparks that don’t hurt, just...static. Zap. 

Yep, Clint really wants Natasha here. They need all the Avengers they can get, especially with Thor reporting back in Asgard. Also, Tony’s still recovering from both a heart attack and a heart restarted by the mentioned Thunder God. 

He says he’s fine but...Clint can see his hands shake every once. The bags under his eyes. 

No one’s doing particularly well, to tell the truth. 

The Avengers definitely didn’t need this disaster so soon after the Chitauri. 

(So soon after Loki...took his mind.)

Guess no one got a chance to bug out first though, at least?

Clint’s phone buzzes. He looks down at the screen. 

A message from Fury. 

-Get in contact. 

-There’s an advisor you need to meet. 

🥚- Heeeey

🐖- I thought i blocked u

🥚- Is that any way to talk to the person who got you a job?

🐖- What do u want

🥚- See the news lately? How are your coworkers responding?

🐖- Mix of glee and identity crisis tbh

🐖- Not every day ur made up monster cartoons become real

🐖- why u asking?

🥚- Curious. That’s all. 

🐖- u kno i HATE liars

🥚- Fine. Thinking about getting involved. 

🐖- w/ who? Govt people u can’t trust?

🥚- SOME of us have been around long enough to build a nice cover. 

🥚- I just wanted to know if you wanted to say anything. 

🐖- if it doesnt get me back home nothing

🥚- Alright. I can do that. 

🥚- Have fun playing with your animation! Some of us want the real deal. 

🥚- Maybe I’ll run into that guy you like so much. What was his name? M? R? Other single letters?

🐖- stfu VOLO

🐖- ...u’ll update me?

🥚- Read at 3:32 AM ✔

🐖- Dragons, i hate u so much.

Chapter Text

There is too much about this situation that Nicolas Fury finds himself...at odds with. 

If he has to put everything into words without swearing about it. Shitty as that may be. 

Fiction suddenly becoming real, he can handle. That is exactly what happened during the Puente Antiguo Incident, after all, Thor and Loki and the rest suddenly making their ancient existence known to the modern world. 

In New Mexico, of all the places in the world to crashland. Making this S.H.I.E.L.D. 's problem from the very start...though it would still be their problem even occurring elsewhere on the planet. 

At least for this incursion, they have a possible advisor. 

A certain Petra Volus. 

The man is pale and blond. Half of his short hair lies in his face, covering up one of his eyes. He wears nothing notable, nothing stranger than a normal suit and tie. 

That ordinaryness only leaves Nick more wary of him. Because if this man is here, he certainly is not ordinary. Someone who can blend in like that...a threat. A spy. 

“Mr. Volus is here to provide insight on the sudden invasion happening in the New York Subway currently,” Hill explains succinctly. 

“Please, just call me Volus.” The man smiles. “It’s much simpler for everyone.”

She inclines her head. Barely. “Volus, then.”

“Sooo, Volus-” Stark, of course, speaks up first. He paces around the room, full of his typical high energy as the man gestures. “Got anything interesting to share with the team? Like how you managed to come up with an imaginary world that turns out to be not so made up?”

Volus’ smile remains unchanged, despite the clear challenge in Stark’s voice. He folds his hands in front of him. “That’s an easy enough question to answer. Because I came from that ‘imaginary world,’ of course.”

Quiet. No one was expecting that, right out the gate. Of course, Nick had suspected that something along those lines was the case. Especially after the New York Tesseract situation. And what happened with Danvers in the 90s...

Seems Earth has always been a wayside stop for otherworldly visitors to stop on. How annoying that is for him to deal with, as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Stark recovers quickly. Of course he does, very little can keep him off his feet for long. 

He whistles. “That’s a pretty crazy thing to claim. Why didn’t you say anything before?”

Volus lowers his head. “Who would believe me, before what happened in New York?” 

...True enough, as much as Nick hates to admit that. Even with documented proof of the Tesseract’s abilities from World War II, a lot of people today still thought that those were exaggerated. Or that Captain America didn’t really exist, beyond a propaganda piece for American nationalism. 

In the best case scenario, Volus would have been picked up by S.H.I.E.L.D. Listened to, and the organization would have been prepared for a disaster of this magnitude going down. Nick is aware of the way reality works well enough to know that would have never happened.

“He’s got a point, Tony,” Dr. Banner puts in, “People barely believe that I, the other guy, destroyed Harlem on the best of days.”

“Do you have any Pokemon?” Barton asks, eyes intent on the man’s body. Searching out for hidden weapons or ‘Pokeballs’ as apparently the monster-storing devices are called on the show.

Proven to be used in reality, as the encounters with both the Conductor and his thugs showcase. 

An expression other than a smile crosses Volus’ face for the first time. The tugging of his lips downward, for the slightest frown. 

“No. I do not.” Simple answer, closed answer. Clearly doesn’t want to answer any questions on the matter. 

Interesting. 

Stark’s never been one to pay attention to social cues like that. 

“Did you have any? Where did they go, once you got here?”

“What has happened to them is none of your concern.” An edge enters the man’s voice, as he narrows his visible eye at Stark. “I am here to assist you, not for you to dig into my personal life where it is unnecessary.”

“Sure, sure. My bad.” Stark flaps a hand. “What do you have to share, blondie?”

Volus’ quiet smile returns. “Tell me what the details of the situation are, and I will do my best.”

Sure he will. Nick makes a mental note to run a background check on the man again, catch any possible crack in the story. 

They will not have another Mar-Vell situation, damn it!

To be perfectly honest, the Shadow did not expect the Subway Masters to act so soon. 

Foolish of them, perhaps, they’ll admit their fault. There was a reason that their Lord chose not to invade the Nimbasa subways from the very start. 

Clearly, the might of the Subway Masters has not faltered through the past few years, despite the disappearance (and reappearance) of one of the pair. 

Unfortunately leading to this current situation, of one Subway Master escaping imprisonment and the other currently hunting them down. Unplanned for, and a trouble to deal with. 

According to the Shadow stationed near the Nimbasa Gym, the bomb has been planted. At least that part of the plan has gone without a hitch. 

For the other Shadow, well, nothing has been heard from them yet but this Shadow is more than certain that is because they are still in the process of carrying out the plot to take down the traitors. 

Neither one of their companions can assist them at the moment, however, due to their own parts still happening. Not that they would ask for help, of course. 

No, this Shadow can take care of the Subway Masters on their own. This new world will be useful in that endeavor. 

There is a trick that the Shadow has learned over the course of this situation.

Where there is a blue outline, the same blue that brought Silvertongue to the Shadow Triad in the first place, is where the worlds overlap. 

The subway of Nimbasa and the other Pokemon-less world have slowly been merging together in those flashes of blue light. If one is clever enough, quick enough, and knows the ways of shadows, they can choose which dimension they step into under the blue light. 

Those who do not... well. They have no choice. 

Many of the recruited grunts have accidentally stranded themselves in the Pokemon-less world in that fashion. Not that the Shadow really cares about that, those grunts causing chaos there only falls under their Master’s plan to rule with the might of Pokemon under his hand alone. 

Also. There are always more grunts.  

If the grunts somehow find a way back...that’s not this Shadow’s problem. 

Only the stalking Subway Master is, currently. 

“Give back Emmet, or face the consequences of your own actions!”

Very well. 

The Shadow spins around the corner. Pretends to reach for their Pokeballs, sees their opponent do the same- right there-!

Moves and the Subway Master moves after. Right through a flash of blue. The Shadow goes through to the Nimbasa Subway on the other side. The Subway Master does not. 

Good. One Subway Master is trapped in the other world. The other will doubtlessly be as well soon, if the grunts that the Shadow has sent out continue to not find him. 

With those twins gone...

Leaving Nimbasa Subway, for the first time in their existence, to Team Plasma.

The Shadow smiles under their mask. Traces a finger along one of their knives. Not enough to cut, enough to feel. Like sharpening the blades of their Bisharp, prepared for anything that may stand between them and their Lord. 

Good. 

Ingo hums to himself, tilting his hat to better look up at the surrounding skyscrapers. 

Towering skyscrapers. Like Nimbasa, but also not. 

It seems that those subway tunnels of the Nimbasa Subway are not connected to Nimbasa properly at this time, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. Not if it’s led him to this surface of a different city than he should have reached, without a Gear Station. 

Crowded. Packed to the brim with humans everywhere. 

But not a single Pokemon. 

There is life that looks like Pokemon, certainly. Small Flying-types that appear much like Pidoves and Murkrows are the most common ones he sees. Among the Dog creatures that are occasionally walked past. 

But nothing larger than that. Nothing seemingly akin to Pokemon levels of intelligence, from his observations. Limited they may be. 

In a way, the place reminds him strangely of Jubilife Village. Despite that village’s lack of...modern conveniences. A settlement clearly built for humans alone, without any amenities for pokemon residents to live alongside them. 

By the time Ingo left, the village was better than it had been in that respect with Pokemon now welcome where they weren’t before. 

For a number of reasons, it’s certain that the same transformation will never occur here.

If this is the world Miss Rogue has come from, the one with no Pokemon whatsoever.  

How...lonely. 

Even lacking his memory, far away from home as he had been in Hisui, Ingo had never been without Pokemon. 

Not so cut off like this, in these human filled crowds. So loud, so noisy, worse because of how unfamiliar these tracks are to him. 

An overwhelming start to his search for Emmet. 

Not enough to get him to turn back, of course! Never. His twin spent so very long looking for him, Ingo will do the same. 

Ingo and Emmet, on the same tracks. A two car train, never to be separated for long. Not ever again, that is not on the schedule. 

He needs to find those Team Plasma members again.

They lured him here and since he can’t see them in sight, that means they have a way back out. Back to the home station. He only has to keep an eye out for them. Track them once more.  

A bit more difficult in a city that is not familiar to him.

Ingo closes his eyes. He cannot get lost in this new locale, mentally. His brother needs him back and he cannot get back if he loses himself. 

Like he did in Hisui. 

He keeps walking, pushing through the crowd. The grumpiness of the surrounding people is about the same as in Nimbasa, he notes half-amused to himself. Some trains always run the same routes, it seems. 

Still. 

Far too noisy. 

Ingo needs somewhere off to the side. Somewhere to breathe. 

Quiet, as quiet as you can get in a city this large. Full of this many people. 

Ah. Up ahead. A location surrounded by barbed wire, gate hanging open. Looking fairly empty. Good enough for him to use at the moment. 

Ingo ducks through. Leans against what’s left of a building’s wall on the other side. 

This place...no wonder it is empty. It appears to have once been the location of something like the many similar looking brick buildings in the area. Ruined, torn down by...an earthquake, perhaps? Or the ruins of a particularly bad Pokemon battle, one that screamed a Legendary or Alpha was involved. 

Ingo would know, after all his time in Hisui. 

There appear to be workers here. Human ones clearing everything away. Such work must take much longer without a friendly Fighting type to assist, like a Machamp or Conkeldurr. Again, how lonely it must be!

Should Ingo ask for directions? Or leave? Go back to the crowds?

Reality makes the choice for him. 

Flashes of blue. Much like the one that brought him here, Ingo notes. 

In those flashes appear...Braviary. Not the Braviary of the present day, Flying type alone, but the Psychic-Fliers Ingo recalls vaguely seeing fly over the Highlands hunting for Sneasels and other small Pokemon. 

Not supposed to be existing anymore. 

The Pokemon shriek, wings fluttering. Confused. Afraid. And in that confusion, they notice the yelling human workers below. Notice and dive. Dive in a hunting formation. 

No. Not today. 

Rocks- Take them down from the sky, then hit them with a Rock-type move-!

“Excadrill, Aerial Ace!” 

Enough to clip their wings, there, they’re closer now! The wild Braviary notice as they fall with shrieks, the few not hit moving around to counter a new threat. 

Low enough for a “Rock Slide!”

Excadrill obeys. Knocks everything down, but careful to avoid the nearby wreckage and humans. Because his Excadrill has experience in fighting around the Subway, enough not to damage the nearby surroundings. 

Just as needed for a place such as this, already in ruins. 

Excadrill and Ingo ready for a counterattack. Only for the Braviary to...fade away? In blue sparks, the same color that brought them here. 

Like a space-time distortion closing itself up. 

Ingo breathes. Settles his hat over his eyes, after he gives a pat to Excadrill and calls him back to his Pokeball after a whispered congratulations. 

Hisui. So the past has come to overlap with Unova once more. Not only the Zorua, but this too...

“The schedule must be off,” he says to himself. “Oh Sinnoh, what has gone wrong now?”

Space and time, for Pokemon to be coming from the past and to be here in this strange world lacking Pokemon. Dialga and Palkia, in trouble. 

Ingo is no hero. He is not the Hero, made to fight Legendaries and bring Gods to heel. 

But he is the only one here that knows enough to guess what might be wrong. 

Ingo needs to find his brother. He needs to find other Trainers to assist, he has that connection with the Sinnoh Champion now, perhaps he can ask her about what may be going on...?

He rubs at his gloves. Making sure they are on fully. 

“Mind the yellow line, stay put until the train comes to a complete stop...I can do this.”

“Hey, you! Man in black! Gonna tell us what the hell just happened?” Ah. One of the workers here. Demanding answers the only way they know how to. 

No matter. Ingo’s dealt with plenty of unruly passengers in his time.

“I stopped an incursion on your reality.”

“An in-what? Your reality-? You some kind of alien or something?”

The edges of Ingo’s lips quirk. “Or something, perhaps. I am merely visiting. If I see any such other incursions, I will do my best to take care of them in turn.” 

The workers mutter and talk among themselves. Eventually, another steps forward. An appointed spokesman. A nearly bald man in work overalls. 

“Hey, you think that’ll happen again around here?”

Ingo taps at his chin. 

“I do not know,” he eventually says. “It is possible.”

“Mind sticking around a little longer, just to be sure? Better than the Avengers coming through and making more of a mess, you stayed pretty clean,” the man continues. 

Ingo needs to go back to his brother. But these people are right. There might be another space-time anomaly to worry about in the near future. They do tend to reoccur in the same locations. And these people have no Pokemon to defend themselves with. 

Ingo...he’ll stay. For the moment. Try to see if there’s a track back home through these space-time flips. As a Warden and a Subway Master, he’ll do his duty!

“Very well. I will do my best to watch out for the rest of your shift. I am Ingo, Subway Master of Nimbasa and Warden of Hisui.”

The man smiles. Extends a hand to shake. “Great. I’m Adrian Toomes. Just stay out of the way unless any monsters show up, okay?”

“Of course.” Ingo accepts the handshake swifty, before retreating off to the side. 

The workers do quickly get back to work, clearing out the wreckage. There is some further discussion, presumably about Ingo himself, but Toomes takes care of those mutterings easily. 

Leaving Ingo to watch for any flares. Rolling his Pokeball in hand. 

Too much space in that time to think, unfortunately. 

No more space-time incursions. But someone else appears. People in suits walking through the gate, heading straight for the individuals cleaning up the nearest piece of concrete chunk. 

Verrry official looking. Uniform. 

Agents of some kind, it seems. Something to keep an eye on. Plus...individuals in armor, following after? And guns, Ingo hasn’t seen a gun in a long time. 

That is not good. Are these this world’s version of an enemy Team? 

Very not good. 

One of the agents, a woman, is talking to Mr. Toomes. About how this place now belongs to a ...Damage Control? Damage Control and something about an anomaly being noted here?

What should Ingo do? Should he get involved? 

“Boss thinks you should head out now,” a worker whispers, from where he’s moved over to be by Ingo. Close, but not too close. Ingo nods, knowing that his loud voice will only get too much attention in this situation. 

Leaving might be for the best. 

“Hey, where are you going? Stop right there.”

If a bit late in execution. 

Ingo moves to go through the open gate. At the leader’s nod, one of the men peels off to stand in that space. Not letting Ingo through. 

“You’ll be coming with us,” the leader says. 

“No,” he decides. “I will not be going with you.”

The leading man’s eyes narrow. “So that’s what you think? No. You will be coming with us, under S.T.R.I.K.E. jurisdiction.”

Ingo tugs at his hat. Ah, so that is where their intended destination lies. That is not a cab he will take, though. 

He reaches for Chandelure’s Pokeball. And Gliscor’s. Two should be enough, against this many agents. He will defend himself and Toomes’ crew. 

“Very well. We will battle, all aboard!”

The Sneasel called Nugget has never had a human to herself before. 

Not a human she hasn’t had to share. 

She loves her humans! They hatched her from an egg and feed her and have a territory that she watches over with them. 

But...they both have other Pokemon they turn to first. She’s much younger than those other Pokemon. Always will be a baby, in their eyes. 

Not bad for treats!

Bad for challenges! Bad for truly wandering the territory, with nothing but her own claws and poison to protect her. 

Like all Pokemon, the Sneasel wants to become strong. 

The best way to do that is to get herself a human of her own. A human that doesn’t have Pokemon much much stronger and older than she is. 

And this human, this female human with dark hair and wrapped up hands, might just be the one she’s looking for. She smells of dirt and human sweat, and underneath she is sunshine-blood-metal. 

Nice smells. Good smells for a successful hunter.

Ingo-and-Emmet like her, have talked to her for much longer than they do with most other humans. Chandelure really likes her too, important important that any human she picks has the approval of her colony’s leaders. Three out of four, very good. 

Sneasel does not know what Eelectross thinks, not yet, but she is certain he will like the human too! He has to!

The human is afraid but not too afraid, a nervousness that will be easily overcome the longer Sneasel is around her. Already she is less frightened than she was at the start, easily following the staticy-yellow-Elesa’s Emolga. 

Yes, she decides. I want this one. This human will be hers. 

“Wait, wait!” 

The Emolga races up ahead, not yet, not yet, Sneasel needs to talk to him! Scare him off her human, not that she’s really worried about that. The Emolga’s with staticy-yellow-Elesa, after all. 

The Emolga pauses. “Yes?” 

“I want her! She will be MY human,” the Sneasel chirps in the Emolga’s direction. 

Emolga flicks his ear back, uncaring. “After we find mine. Then all yours.” 

“Yes, good.” She clatters her claws together, hopping up and down on her toes. “...where is your human again?”

Also...how does one go about partnering a new human?

A human that doesn’t know anything about Pokemon. It can’t be too hard. Can it?

“Follow me.” Emolga twitches his tail. Hurrying up ahead, a flash of yellow in the darker hallways. Not as dark as the subway tunnels, but pretty dark for a human still. 

Careful, careful. The Sneasel tugs her human’s pant leg along, to lead the best way. 

Her human stumbles after her and the Emolga. Good!

They stumble but don’t get far. Because...

There is a human in the pathway, blocking them from the Emolga. Reaching for the Emolga, only for that Pokemon to hiss and scratch, climbing back up on the wall to get out of reach. An enemy human, because her human stiffens and sends fear-fear-fear into the air. 

Sneasel will protect her human! She growls in challenge and the enemy answers. Sends out a Pokemon of his own. 

A Numel! It easily knocks her aside. Bashes her into the ground, keeping her from getting back up. Not without a fight.

“Bully!” she snarls. 

The Numel is indifferent, one large eye rolling down in her direction. “You’re just weak.” 

Sneasel dives forward, claws stretched out to stab. 

“Nugget!” her human cries out. Too late, as the Numel’s human calls out a command. 

“Numel, Take Down that Pokemon!” 

Sneasel wails as the attack knocks her out of the air. Hurts! But she rolls back up onto her feet, ready to continue the fight. 

“What do I do?!” her human cries, reaching out. 

The other human holds out an arm in the way. “Don’t get in the middle of that!”

“But...I need to help!”

“Then tell your Sneasel how to fight,” the other human says reasonably. 

“How do I do that?” 

That’s some quick discussion of whatever the humans need to talk about. Not this Sneasel’s problem, she focuses on getting out of the way of another attack. Not very well, she can’t tell where the Numel’s human is directing it. That’s what she needs a human for!

“Numel, Ember!”

“Nugget! To the left!”

Oh! Her human! The Sneasel gladly listens, shifting her entire body out of the way in that assigned direction. 

The burning ashes of Ember just barely miss the Sneasel. 

“Rock Smash!” One of the Sneasel’s favorites! She pays back her pain to the Numel as hard as she can manage. Hard enough to smash rocks, of course. 

The Numel is...unmoved. Annoying!

She snarls, baring her claws and fangs in threat. 

When her human gives her another command to follow, follow it she does. To the end, all the way to falling over, feeling weak. Being almost knocked out. 

The other human has to take over with her Flaaffy and they defeat the enemy Numel without the Sneasel’s help, but that’s alright. 

Even having lost...

“It’s okay, we’ll get stronger,” her human promises quietly, tending to the Sneasel’s wounds with a Potion. Following the other human’s advice, taking care of the worst hurts first in a gentle spray. “We’ll win, Nugget.”

Yeah. 

Nugget has picked a good human. 

Emmet is a person of habit, as many have rightfully pointed out in the past. More visibly so, since his twin does not nearly get so many accusations of such. 

Foolish! They’re both bound to follow the rules, the schedule. Just because Emmet is more careful with his scripts does not make Ingo less of a rule-keeper. 

But Emmet is verrry aware of how poorly his own thoughts can go, when a train derails. Or reaches a stop earlier or later than it should! How those thoughts can run in circles, over and over!

This is why, no matter how uncomfortable Agent Romanoff leaves him, he still keeps on track. Watches over her as a proper conductor should with every passenger!

He does need to find his brother, though. Get on the same tracks. 

Will not be let alone! Not this time!

It would be best to go back and retrieve his XTranseciever. Unfortunately, Emmet does not know the path back to where Team Plasma forced him to leave it. 

For now, he will get the agent back to her home station. 

Then he will plan his next stop.

In these tunnels that look a mixture of familiar and not, it would be best to have a Pokemon out. To watch for possible Team Plasma members or wild Pokemon. 

Emmet’s hand goes to his belt. Takes out the closest Pokeball to release-

Agent Romanoff stiffs, touches at her wrists. 

Galvantula! The Bug-type eagerly crawls out to meet him, mandibles buzzing along with the static in her fur. Her legs reach out for pets. 

“What is that?” 

“Galvantula is the best Bug-type!” Emmet enthuses. He bends down to pet her head. Rub his gloved hand through her soft fur. “Aren’t you, girl? The verrry best!”

“...she looks healthy.” Ha, obviously the agent is not very fond of Bug-types. Her face is pale and she took some time to push out those words.

That is alright, few people are. Elesa has told him how to tell when people are lying about liking Bug-types, so as not to accidentally scare anyone with the many Joltik he’s bred. Such a common dislike only makes it easier for Emmet to prove the strength of his own Joltik and Galvantula, full steam ahead!

Yet something doesn’t make sense about this. What is it? Emmet thinks out loud as he continues to pet his Pokemon. 

“Hm, do you not work with bugs yourself? You are called Black Widow, like a spider!” That's what the woman mentioned earlier, when he asked about if she was married or not. That no, actually, a black widow is a spider. A Bug-type Pokemon without the Bug type, that's what Emmet figured. 

Now, the woman may not have Pokemon herself, but they must have something similar for her to have a name such as that. 

Agent Romanoff blinks. Something in her face softens, almost. Less harsh cheekbones than before? As far as Emmet can tell, he’s not exactly the best at faces.

“No, that’s not the reason I have my codename.”

She says nothing more. 

“Hm, that is silly. To have a name that is not connected to what you do.” Emmet pulls at his coat collar, indicating his uniform. “I am the Subway Master, and that means I am in charge of the Nimbasa Subway and Battle Subway!”

The agent hums. Taps her fingers together. 

“If you are in charge of a ‘Nimbasa’ Subway, then calling you the Conductor fits the situation better than I originally thought.”

She’s been calling him the Conductor? Like one that runs a train? 

Interesting as that may be...

“That is not my title.” 

“I know it isn’t. It’s what we’ve been calling you.”

“That is not my title,” Emmet repeats. To be sure that she understands. 

“...I understand that.”

Good. It is best to be clear, for there to be no errors. 

Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow, remains very aware that she should be getting back to the Avengers. Reporting to S.H.I.E.L.D. at this very moment. 

It wouldn’t be hard to accomplish that. Simply leave the man behind to make way back to the surface, since this area is the New York Subway and a part she even recognizes at that. 

She’s gotten quite a lot of information, enough to make a decent report out of it. She has no need to stay around with the man. With Mister Emmet. 

This is what she has gathered, so far:

The man is a stickler for details. Moreso than most individuals Natasha has interacted with over the years, the exceptions being a few S.H.I.E.L.D. analysts and anyone who has to deal with her paperwork. 

Subway Master Emmet is used to being in charge. He leads the way with no hesitation, expecting her to follow. Not in a ‘man knows better than woman’ way, more of a...usually being the one in charge. The expectation of being a leader and living up to that. Suits his title and self proclaimed duties, as she heard from him. 

He is also....kind. Kind is the best word she has for what she’s seen of his interactions with his monsters so far, though Natasha rather dislikes using ‘kind’ for anything. Most people aren’t kind, they are only nice right up until it no longer benefits them. 

Natasha is one of those people, most certainly. 

It is possible that Mister Emmet is only nice to his monsters. Not kind. 

Yet. Natasha doubts that conclusion in turn. There is no niceness attached to surrendering when one of the enemy took those monsters hostage. 

As well as herself, as much as she hates to recall her error in that.

He also...didn’t have to help her. 

(Clint Barton, reaching out to her so long ago. Still an enemy, but hurt. He still helped her. )

Natasha breathes, settling her mind. It is not the time for her thoughts to get lost in what she still owes. Only to keep to the mission. 

Normally, she never has this difficulty. This entire situation has been throwing her off, what she once thought would be impossible. 

Concentrate. What else can she learn? Bring back in a report?

The spider of his, Galvantula, is still out. Crawling about on the walls, mandibles clicking every so often as those too many blue eyes take in everything. 

Natasha is not one for spiders. Especially spiders of an abnormal size, that is usually an indicator of some mad scientist that needs to be taken care of. 

This spider...is different. More affectionate than one would normally associate with anything that has more than four legs. 

Natasha checks her Widow Bites, just in case. She’s not sure how much assistance the electricity will be against this specific foe, however. Considering what she’s seen of it so far. 

Galvantula stiffens. Looks ahead. 

Something lets out a low cry up from the same direction, through the shadowed darkness. 

“Galvantula! Light it up!”

The spider complies, sparking electricity dancing along its yellow fur. 

Ah. So the Widow Bites won’t work on it. Noted. 

What she sees with that low spider-provided light....another Pokemon. One she’s never seen before, though that may not be saying much considering her limited experience in these monsters so far. 

This Pokemon...is not a bird. It certainly has birdlike features, feathers and wings and hooked feet. But it is not a bird. The head is certainly...lacking a beak or most other features associated with a bird. Though it does have something like a crest. Almost.

It is pale, dotted here and there with blue and red triangle-shaped patches. 

It coos, wrapping its large wings about itself as it curls up on the floor. 

Mister Emmet provides an answer. “A Togekiss! What is it doing here?”

Yes. What is it doing here?

“It looks hurt. Let us do our best to assist.”

“Wait-!” Natasha reaches out, catching the edge of the man’s sleeve before he goes into possible danger. 

Grey eyes stare at her unblinkingly. 

Galvantula hisses, chittering as it moves closer to Natasha in turn. Defending its owner. 

“What is it?”

“What if it attacks you?”

“Ah.” Something in the man’s stance relaxes. His spider’s hisses dies down. “Do not worry, I have Galvantula to protect me!”

With that, Mister Emmet squats down to dig into the pockets of his coat. 

Natasha holds back a sigh. If this is what he wants to do...she’ll keep an eye out 

Not because she owes him, of course. 

Just in case. 

Chapter Text

Their partner named them Astraea. After the ancient stars and the hope in those same stars, Partner had explained. A pretty name and one that Astraea likes a lot, if only because it showed how much Volo cared for them. 

Before they had been separated from one another. Scattered across the stars by either an uncaring god or by accident, the Togekiss knows not.

Only they are here now. In a dark tunnel, a wing injured. 

“Volo, Volo,” they chirp over and over.

Separated for so long. All Astraea wants to see them again. Them and the other Pokemon, the rest of the flock. 

They’ve...been along for long enough. Too long. 

Now they have fallen from the stars into...a strange tunnel. 

A tunnel that shakes every so often, the sign of fierce burrowing Onix. Enemies that Astraea could take easily, if not for their wing. 

They huddle into themselves, careful to keep an eye out for any wild Pokemon. They cannot sleep, when there is no other to watch out for them in the middle of their injury. 

Astraea waits the best they can. 

For the blood to stop running, for the injury to heal enough for them to be able to properly fight back. Not that Astraea is weak, just the opposite, yet...

Best to wait and keep an eye out, than to get into a fight in this state. 

A light in the dark. Something comes up through the tunnel. Another Pokemon. 

They fluff up their wings, to make themself look bigger. Preparing for a battle if one must be had. 

The Pokemon is Bug. And Electric. It rubs its mandibles at Astraea, hissing. Not quite a threat, but the promise of one. A promise that Astraea soon understands, with a human stumbling in after the yellowish light the other Pokemon produces. 

Oh? This human looks like the Warden of the Chosen Sneasler but clearly isn’t. Feels more...Electric, less Ghosty. Only befitting the Pokemon that led it here. Him, perhaps? Led him here. 

“Hello?” Astraea inquires, flicking their head spines up as they squint at the human. Human s, because there’s another one that is very red and black. Appearing to be female. 

This human is like the many other humans their partner has been forced to interact with, afraid of their great size and flinching back at their cries. Unlike the Warden-look alike, who only moves closer. Barely, hands out, voice in a calming tone. 

“Be verrry careful, Agent Romanoff. Togekiss are normally not aggressive, but that can change if they are hurt like this one is.”

The Warden-look alike slowly reaches out. Telegraphing his moves as clearly as he can manage it. Decently well. 

Astraea lets the human touch their wing, eying him cautiously. 

He doesn’t touch the wound, just cautiously tests their feathers with his fingers. Combing through to get the dirt in there out. Grooming. 

(Like Volo always does. Did.)

“Do not worry, Togekiss. I have a Hyper Potion that can help with that wound.”

The spider Pokemon, the Electric-Bug one watching Astraea from off to the side, speaks up to explain the words Astraea has no context for. 

“My Human can heal you, if you want. Close up cut, close up bad bad cut.”

Astraea considers, feathers fluttering. Well, if something did go wrong, they could always simply crush the human and his Pokemon. 

Even an Electric type shouldn’t be too much trouble, being within reach of their hefty wings. 

“Alright. Go ahead,” they chirp. Pushing their injured wing closer to the not-Warden. “I will shoot you with a Hyper Beam if you do wrong.” 

“Verrry well. Keep still as I get you back on board.”

They catch a gentle spitz-spitz sound as the human waves something over the cut. Something that spreads a liquid substance like a Water Gun might. Very different from the gel that Volo has carefully squished onto injuries of past battling. 

But it does the same thing as that gel, slowly closing up the wound. Leaving only blood stains on feathers behind. 

Soon they can fold their wing back into place as nature intended. Still tender, but otherwise healed. 

Astraea ducks their head in appreciation. “Thank you! I must go find my partner now. They are very lost.”

The spider Pokemon clicks their mandibles together. “Your partner...let us help!” 

Astraea tilts their head to show that they’re listening. The other Pokemon continues. 

“We are finding our way to humans too. Your partner may be there!”

A decent enough explanation. They consider the offer, fluffing up their feathers and then pushing them back down again. 

“I will follow then. Tell your human.”

The odds of these humans and Pokemon finding their partner is not...great, but it’s better than sitting in these tunnels alone. 

Astraea has to find Volo.

(They have to. )

Natasha honestly did not expect that ‘Pokemon’ could get so...large. Like this white bird-creature. Large enough for a full grown man to fit on its back and then some. 

Foolish of her. She has nowhere enough information on Mister Emmet’s own Pokemon to make that judgment for all Pokemon. 

At least the creature seems non-hostile...for now. 

She checks her Widow Bites. Just in case. Operational and fully charged, should anything occur and should she need to defend herself against the creature. 

The Conductor walks towards it like he has nothing to fear, even from such a large creature. He walks like he’s...always had back-up. Support. Not only from his Pokemon, but...in human form as well. But the only human here is her...did he forget that the brother he searches for is not at his back. 

(Does he trust her?)

(Impossible.)

“Do you know where your trainer is?” Mister Emmet asks with hands on his hips. 

Like he expects the creature to understand him. This ‘Togekiss.’ Similar yet different from how he offered medicine to it earlier. 

And it shakes its head, head feathers wiggling from the gesture. 

“Ah, I understand. I am looking for my brother. You can join us from this station, if you like.”

Again, it nods and it wiggles forward. Up onto very small feet, the entire form of the creature somewhat reminds Natasha of a seal. Another creature that also lacks legs to move about on land, though bat might be a better comparison for this monster with flight.

Emmet’s facial expression doesn’t change at all, but something about his shoulders...shifts, as he turns to her. 

“Is there an access point to the surface from here?”

She considers the situation. She does not have the New York subways memorized, yet... “There should be.”

“Ah, yes, I see! Galvantula, find electrical cords in the walls. They will lead us to a central power station that will surely be connected to an outside service station.”

The giant spider chitters and scrambles onto the walls, eager to obey its master. 

As for her part, Natasha...is not exactly shocked, but that’s a good idea. An excellent idea, based on the knowledge of capabilities that come up outside of fighting. 

Because it is easy enough to look at the creatures he carries and know they will fight, monster to monster. But it is far more mind bending to use such monsters for something as complicated as finding a way out of an underground maze. 

This man...he is very experienced in his craft. And if his creatures can be used for more than mere fighting...

Perhaps Natasha wouldn’t mind gaining one herself in some fashion. Depending on the creature itself, of course. 

Their passageway is other quiet through tunnels, outside Mister Emmet’s intermittent questions on the surrounding architecture and processes of the subway (ones he soon stops asking her as it becomes clear how much she doesn’t know about either option) and noise of their movement. 

Mister Emmet does call out an iron ant that he calls ‘Durant’ to help the winged bird-like creature along, adding more space to the tunnels when it’s needed here and there. 

Otherwise, very little occurs. 

Until they get closer to the main electrical station. There, there is more noise. The sounds of more people. 

More people panicking and moving away from them, running through the more finalized halls they’ve newly found themselves in. Natasha even catches glimpses of the backsides of a few individuals. 

“I wonder why all of the passengers have evacuated...what could be the emergency?” wonders the man being followed by several monsters, two of them being oversized insects. 

In the interest of keeping the peace, the agent known as Black Widow decides not to answer that question. 

Ah, there’s a way out. Up there.

“Up here.” She beckons and Mister Emmet easily follows, carefully to hook his coat to avoid catching on anything.

Not that it would be a danger to him if it did, the garment does appear to have some kind of fasteners that could be easily released if needed. 

He waits by their exit as his monsters help the bird creature out. Patient.  

The earbud in her ear fizzes. Buzzes as it finally reattaches to the signals above ground. Ready to be used once more. 

Good. Stark may have promised that his communication devices would survive anything but Natasha is more than aware that ‘anything’ is different out in the field than in the lab. 

“Mister Emmet, I will be contacting my teammates at this time.”

The man waves his hands at that. “Yes, yes, ask for Ingo too.”

Natasha doesn’t allow herself to take a deep breath. To lessen the stiffness in her posture in any way. 

Instead she taps at her now functioning comm to begin her report.

“Hawkeye, I am with the Conductor at this location...”

Tony Stark waits for their ‘advisor’ to finish looking over the little yellow spider...thing.  

One of an entire infestation, Pokemon apparently from who knows where. According to Jarvis, there are hundreds just feeding off of the Arc Reactor. 

Possibly. Apparently it’s difficult to tell the exact numbers due to the energy the bugs give off. 

Now, the Arc Reactor is built to provide continuous energy. But his designs have also never gone stress-testing under an alien species of electric bugs. 

Wait...electric bug. Electric spider. 

“Jarvis,” he calls out to his AI. “Have these spiders made any webs in the tower?”

“Allow me to properly check, sir.”

The answer comes back shortly. 

“There is quite an entanglement between the walls and the reactor itself, sir, of an organic material appearing to originate from those spiders.”

“Guess that’s one way to get to the web,” Tony muses. Glances over at Blondie, waiting for a reaction. 

“Oh right, that was a pun, wasn’t it?” Blondie’s smile is as dry as his voice. “Clever, I suppose.”

...just as straight laced as Phil, it seems. And Tony instantly shoves that thought away, he doesn’t need to make that comparison between this man and the deceased agent. 

(It’s his fault that the man died, isn’t it? Only if he were faster-!)

“You get used to them,” Clint comments from across the room, arms on his knees as he leans over on them. “Mine are better, though.”

Tony huffs. “Better? Can’t be better than mine, Legolas, I make the best gear and jokes around here.”

“Sure, you just keep telling yourself that...” The archer rolls out his shoulders, popping a wrist. “When you still haven’t made me that punching arrow I wanted.”

“Because that’s stupid,” Tony points out. “Leave the joke weapons to my brain and keep out of it.”

“Would you like my advice on this issue or not?” Blondie cuts in. Still smiling politely, still seeming unannoyed by their banter. 

Again, just like Phil.

“Sure, run it by me.” He puts his hands behind his head, not looking at the guy. 

“They must be attracted to the amount of energy in the tower. A possible way to lure them off would be to create another burst of energy that would draw their attention.”

That...

“There’s nothing else in the city that could manage that,” Tony says. “The tower is the only one running on an arc reactor right now.”

Across the room, Bruce looks thoughtful. Considering. “Feed off of energy, huh. Would something else outside of electricity work?”

Oh, that sounds like the beginning of a good idea right there! 

Something goes off. An alarm. Loud beeping. Ruining the brain juices going on here, what the hell. Damn it. 

The old Captain looks over the alert, checking for details. He seems thoughtful. 

“It looks like the Conductor’s shown up again, causing havoc in one of the areas still damaged by the Chitauri attack.”

“Then it’s time to suit up!” Tony claps his hands together. “Chop chop!”

“I will be going with you,” Blondie says firmly.

Steve says what everyone’s thinking, looking at each other. “That won’t be safe for you.” 

“I will be off to the side and only involve myself when the battle is over.” Blondie’s lips quirk at the edges. “Do not worry about me being a fool.”

Well. There’s not a lot to do about that. Except maybe letting Fury know about his source wanting to throw himself into action. 

But then, Tony’s no snitch. Especially to the old pirate man himself. He’s not interested in involving himself with this. Nah, he wants to get this business with the Conductor down and over with as soon as possible. 

Time to test out the new battle cry...

“Avengers Assemble!”

Ingo considers his next move as he takes cover behind a fallen wall. His fingers rub against his Pokeballs as he does so. 

This ‘Strike’ appears to be well-armed with various weaponry. Mostly guns. Guns in numbers that Ingo has never dealt before, either as Warden or Subway Master. 

Guns that should not be used in the vicinity of multiple bystanders that have no Pokemon and are not involved with Ingo otherwise. 

For example, the work crew of Adrian Toomes who are also taking shelter the best they can. 

“Excuse me,” he yells over his shoulder, over his cover. “You are not following proper safety protocol!”

The gunfire pauses for one of the Strike grunts to yell back, “What?!”

Ingo obliges. “You are not following proper safety protocol! Firing into a civilian zone with non-trainers is not allowed under law or subway code. In fact, it is not allowed with trainers as well, but it is far more dangerous for non-trainers!”

Silence as everyone in the area hopefully takes in this very important information. 

Hopefully being the most vital word here, Ingo is aware that many do not treat safety protocols with the respect they deserve. If they did, Ingo would not have to ask people to stay behind the yellow line every day.

Unfortunately, people are people and that often involves the breaking of safety protocols. 

They do appear to be using rubber bullets, this Strike. But still! Even rubber bullets could take out a human eye. Dangerous! Hazardous!

If they will not listen to reason, perhaps he will have to make an offer. Before the situation worses, as it usually does with grunts. 

Chandelure hums from her place next to him. The bullets, of course, do no damage to her metal body, and would do very little damage even if they were metal. 

Psychic would easily take care of everything as well. 

“Yes, yes,” he agrees. “I cannot simply stand down in these conditions. They might not even have proper rules for battle. ”

Or if they do, this enemy team clearly will not follow those rules. Considering their...lack of respect for safety protocol.

Ingo raises his voice further. “Mister Toomes! How are you and your men?” 

“We’re alive!” one of the before mentioned men shouts back. “No thanks to these bastards!”

“Shut up, you’ll make ‘m madder!”

Ingo narrows his eyes as he tries to think. Certainly he cannot direct his own Pokemon to attack Strike, because they lack Pokemon to defend themselves with. Also, his Pokemon are trained for higher levels, it would be most difficult to defeat their foes without committing serious damage. 

Ingo still doesn’t know how different the humans of this world are from his own, to make his last point. He needs to be careful not to ruin another set of tracks. 

Chandelure nudges him. “Chhhh?”

Oh. The shooting has stopped. He carefully peeks out of his cover, to properly see what’s happening. 

New...people have shown up. At least, Ingo thinks they’re probably humans and not the local equivalent of Fighting type Pokemon or anything like that.

They are...brightly colored. A man in blue, with a red and white shield. A man-shaped red and gold armor. A man in purple and black, with a bow. 

Also, someone standing off to the side in blue and yellow. He thinks? Not nearly so vital as the bright colors people talking to Strike. Arguing with them, it seems. 

A good sign, especially since there is no more shooting as a result of this argument. 

But before they go too far, he should speak up. Make sure that the interests of Mister Toomes and his men (who are currently carefully peeking out themselves) are taken care of. 

Not ruined by this Team Strike and whoever has apparently come to oppose them. 

He will stand up for these men and their work. They deserve his support. The support of a Subway Boss. 

“Excuse me, I have something to say!” he calls out over the space between him and the brightly colored individuals. Standing up from behind his cover. Risky, but Chandelure will protect him. It will be no problem whatsoever.

The “What?” he gets from that direction is more than enough prompting for him to continue. 

“Will you punish Mister Toomes and his men for my presence?” Ingo checks. 

More silence. He does seem to be getting a lot of that from these passengers today!

“...You’re not the Conductor.”

Ingo tugs at his cap. “No, I am not a conductor. I am the Warden and Subway Master Ingo. A pleasure to meet you!”

Now that they are no longer attempting to shoot or attack him, that is. Good. Very good. 

But they did not answer his question. Very well. He will repeat it again, just to make sure they heard. 

“Will you punish Mister Toomes and his men for my presence?”

“Why do you even care?” the man in the red and gold armor asks. Still not answering his question. 

Fine. He will repeat it. “Will you-”

“No, we won’t,” the man in blue with the circular shield finally intercedes. “They won’t be punished for you being here.”

Ingo feels his shoulders relax. “Very good! That is correct, as I was only present due to taking care of some errant passengers who disembarked onto the wrong line.”

The brightly colored individuals before him exchange looks. A secret language that he and his twin have never been able to properly crack, unfortunately. 

The man with a bow speaks up next. “Passengers? What are you talking about?”

Ingo taps his fingers by his side. “Pokemon from another time and place. They were attacking and I did my duty in making sure none were harmed.”

“...Space-time rifts. But how are they happening?”

He knows that voice. And looking over, Ingo knows that hair as well.

“Volo.” Ingo stiffens. How did he get here? The same way as the Hisuian Zorua and the other Pokemon that attacked Mister Toomes’ work crew, perhaps? Cuts in time and space. 

Volo smiles, the same as ever. “Actually, it’s Volus. You must have known a family member of mine.”

Volus? Not Volo, what an error to make. Ingo nods, considering. Straightens his coat sleeves and gloves. “Pardon my rudeness, then!”

Volus flaps an errant hand. “It’s quite alright, we tend to look alike like each other in my family. Like you and your twin, I suppose.”

One of the others gives a start. “Wait, they’re twins? Him and the Conductor?”

Curious. Do they not have twins commonly here? Odd, but not any odder than a world completely empty of Pokemon. 

Volus speaks up, thankfully before Ingo himself needs to step in on the subject. 

“Am I the only one who watched the footage? It’s obvious that he and the Conductor are twins, or related in some close fashion if not that.” Volus taps his fingers against his arm, visible eye rolling. 

This Conductor...they could be speaking of Emmet. But it is important to double check. Triple check, even!

“Does this Conductor look like myself but wears white instead of black?” 

Volus nods. Answers for the rest. “Yes. Is he your twin?”

“Emmet,” Ingo breathes. He clears his throat. Moving closer as he does so. Enough to see and speak to them better. Chandelure obediently follows him with quiet humming. “Yes, that is my twin Emmet. Where is he? I am looking for him.”

Another exchange of looks he cannot read. 

The man in blue clears his throat. “Actually, we came here because we thought you were him.”

Ingo tugs at the edge of a coat sleeve. “As you can clearly tell, I am not him! Where is my twin?”

“Perhaps...” Volus tugs at a bang. So similar to his ancestor, quirks and stims and everything else included. That Ingo has noticed so far. “He is looking for you, is the likelihood. But where would he look for you? Do you have any idea, possibly?”

Hm, very good questions! Ingo considers the situation he’s in and the situation his twin will find himself in. Two tracks, heading for the same destination.

“I came up from the local subway system. It is highly likely that Emmet will do the same,” Ingo suggests. 

“Ah, that makes perfect sense.” Volus nods. He turns to one of the Strike individuals and asks them a question that Ingo does not quite catch. But the man with the bow speaks up to answer instead. 

“I just got contacted by someone who’s with your brother. They’ll be here pretty soon.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your assistance very much!” Ingo tips his hat towards Volus and the man with the bow. He’d like to ask about what to do about the distortions, since it does appear that this is a team of people seemingly meant to deal with dimensional visitors. Since they did show up for when Emmet and himself arrived at this station. 

Also, about Toomes- 

Volus holds up his phone, covered in Togepi stickers. 

“Do you mind if I take a picture with you?”

🥚- [image sent]

🐖- HJAKDHF WAAAAIT IS THAT ONE OF THESUBWAY BOSSES???

🐖- WITH HIS CHANDELUREEEEE1!!1!

🥚- Perhaps. Would you like to meet him in person? ;)

🐖- i see what ur doing. 

🐖- asshole

🥚- It’s up to you if you want to get involved or not.

🐖- Fiiiinne

🐖- send me the address.

🥚- If you want. 

🥚- Before that, what would you like me to tell them about you?

🐖- ill send u the deets

🐖- the shitty manipulator u r

🥚- Excellent. :)

🥚- See you at the Avengers Tower!

🐖- wait what

Elesa paces back and forth in her ‘prison.’ Uselessly. Only running as much energy out as she can, before she gives into her urge to call out her Zebstrika and blow up her Gym in the process. 

There’s something like a noise. Too quiet for her to hear under the ticking of the bomb and the other noises in the room...

Frowning, she turns up her hearing aids. CLICK CLICK. The sound of...the door! Someone is trying the locked door!

Eagerly, she turns towards the source of clicking. Turns down her aids again and rests her hand at her belt. 

If they’re the Shadow or anyone else from Team Plasma...

She grins. 

Well, they’ll be in for a nasty shock! 

Scratching at the door. Her hand tightens around one of her Pokeballs. 

The door slams open and inside comes-!

“Emolga!” She crouches down to rub her hands all over her Pokemon’s fur and ears. “What a good boy! You did such a good job, getting them for me!”

Emolga preens, pushing his head more into her hands. For more scritching. He chirps at her, so proud of himself. 

Now, for her backup. 

Elesa rises to her feet and Emolga clambers up onto her back as she does. Clinging like the static electricity his fur is full of. 

Now, who did Emolga go get...?

Colette. And...Rogue. Rogue, who should be safe with the rest of people from her world. Not wandering halls full of thugs. And is that- yes, it’s Nugget! Right by Rogue’s side! Maybe it wasn’t that dangerous in the end, considering that.

“Elesa...what happened?” Colette steps up to ask. 

“Team Plasma...lured me in here to set up a bomb.” She jerks her head towards the device in question. 

“A bomb!?” Rogue’s eyes go wide and Colette responds the same way. 

“If it goes off, it might take out the city as well as the Nimbasa Gym. We can’t let them win.” Elesa narrows her eyes, brushes her hand against her hair. 

They didn’t let Team Plasma get their way the last time they attacked, and they won’t let them get their way this time. 

Never. 

“Elesa, how are we going to find them?” Colette puts her hand up to ask. Always so polite, as befitting a Lady Trainer. 

Elesa puts her hands on her hips, head tilting back in thought. “Hm. Good point. Let’s take a look at the security footage and go from there.”

Easy enough to click through the footage that’s already up, searching through the halls for that suspicious subway worker coat. The fake one, of course. 

Oh, there’s earlier with Ingo and Chandelure. A little bit later when Elesa noticed the fake, where they led her into this dumb trap. 

There’s a number of apparent ‘agents’ wandering the halls of her gym. 

Her own gym trainers unfortunately haven’t been able to clear them out, since they’re guarding the other-worlders. 

Colette and Rogue, however, have been able to take care of a few on their way to free Elesa. Of course, there’s no guarantee that these enemy agents will stick around after their defeat but the footage (and testimonies) will go a long way in identifying them. 

Along with the Pokemon they’ve been using, ones mostly foreign to Unova. Easier to track.

“We’ll look through the footage first,” Elesa decides. She tugs at her lower lip. “I am a little worried about disarming this bomb as quickly as possible...”

They all glance over at the device in question. Still ticking down. Red number by red number.

“Uh. I think I know how to stop it. Or learn how to.” 

Well, that was the last thing she expected to hear from the teenage girl in front of her. 

“Really, how?” 

Rogue snaps her mouth shut, paling. 

Not meaning to say that, then? Oh boy. Maybe more privacy might help. 

“Colette, do you mind...?” 

The Lady Trainer nods. “Not an issue whatsoever. I will be outside, call for me when you need me once more.”

She takes her leave gracefully. 

Rogue glaces after her, but only briefly. Most of her attention is on Elesa. 

“Now, what were you saying?”

Rogue tugs at her gloves. Clear nervous gesture, like when the twins do it. 

Elesa nibbles slightly at her lip. It’s more than obvious that whatever the teen is offering, it’s quite a reach for her. 

Something she would never bring up under normal circumstances. 

Considering how much this girl will not talk about, such as her apparent homelessness, that must be a very big secret indeed. 

Elesa...doesn’t want to take advantage of that. 

Rogue certainly hasn’t gone onto a Pokemon Journey, does not have extensive battling experience to protect herself. 

Yet...

She looks at Nugget, attached to Rogue’s shoulder. Patting at her coat collar, even as the owner of said coat shrinks down into it. Trying not to be touched, a smart move with a Poison type as young as Nugget, but not shaking the Sneasel off violently. 

They’ve bonded, clearly. She doesn’t even need the footage of their battling together to know that. 

Rogue might be ready to go onto a Journey. Most likely is ready.

Part of that readiness is showing up here, in a brillant dazzle of trust between the two of them.  

And Elesa will not let the young girl down. 

Elesa leans back against the wall. Emolga crawls up onto her shoulder, almost onto her front, to avoid getting squished. She’s careful to meet Rogue’s eyes as she does so. If the girl shows any discomfort at the gesture, like the twins do, she’ll stop right away. 

But by the way those brown eyes look back and how the girl’s shoulders almost relax, the eye contact is just the thing in this case. 

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to. But if you do tell me...I promise I won’t tell anyone else.” Elesa smiles, trying to keep the expression soft. “I swear it on my position as Gym Leader of this Gym.”

Nugget murmbles, tugging at Rogue’s coat collar with her teeth. Then the young Sneasel hops down and scurries over to Elesa. Reaching out with her claws to the Gym Leader’s hand. 

Elesa lets the Poison type touch gently against her, not afraid whatsoever. In fact, she thinks she knows what Nugget is trying to do here...

Seeing them interact so calmly and peacefully seems to prompt Rogue. 

“I have something that I can...do. An ability to...” she hesitates, before taking a deep breath and continuing. 

“If I touch someone with my bare skin, I...can do what they do. I can see their memories. But it’s not good for me to touch them for too long...”

The way the girl describes this ability of hers...

“Oh, you’re a Psychic?” What a rare ability too, she’s never heard of anyone who could read memories with a touch. Yes, there are stories of human Psychics being able to read minds and everyone knows the strongest of Psychic type Pokemon can do the same easily...

But through touch? Seems more like a...Ghost type thing, like fighting against Ingo’s energy draining Chandelure, if she has to be honest on where her first thoughts go for the situation. A Ghost ability. Not a Psychic ability. But Psychic enough to be attached to a human.  

“...there are people like me here?” Rogue’s voice is small, much like how the girl is attempting to shrink into herself right now. 

Expecting to be hurt for what she just told Elesa about herself. 

Elesa bites the inside of her cheek. Her mouth tastes of blood, the grip of flesh between her back teeth is certainly hard enough for that. 

“Yes, I’ve heard of people that can do something similar to what you do. Human Psychics,” she explains. 

But to look into the mind of someone who fought them and are trying to blow the Gym up, like these Plasma grunts...Elesa doesn’t like the sound of that. 

“You don’t have to...use your ability. I mean, it’s good of you to offer,” Elesa hurries to say. “But there are other ways to find these morons who set up a bomb here.”

The girl’s hands are shaking. Everything about her is shaking. 

A broken sob. Elesa starts at the sound, reaching out with one hand before she can think better of the gesture.

The aversion towards touch suddenly makes a lot of sense, under the light of this revelation. Different from the twins, but still similar in the end result. 

“Do...would you like a hug?”

The girl bursts into an explosion of motion, just enough to wrap her arms around Elesa’s waist. 

...Most definitely a yes to that question. 

She wraps her arms around Rogue and slowly, hesitant, the girl snuggles deeper into her. Not enough to touch skin-to-skin, but more than enough to let Elesa know that Rogue hasn’t been touched kindly in a long time. 

And for a moment, there is only the two of them. Woman and girl, in the middle of a shifting world. Plus one baby Sneasel cuddling in between their legs and an Emolga on the woman’s back. 

Elesa does not regret a second of it. 

She never will. 

Chapter Text

Rogue had a different name, once. 

She lived in a home with a perfectly average family. Everything was normal. Average. 

That changed when she brought in her boyfriend. 

When they started kissing for the first time. Making out. 

(That’s when she killed him.)

No. No. Rogue didn’t kill him. The girl that will be Rogue didn’t kill him. 

But he might as well be dead, stuck as he is in the hospital. In a coma.

A different kind of death. 

And...

That’s not the important part. 

She breathes. Flexes her fingers, hidden as they are under the gloves. 

Just a thin layer of dirty cloth, to protect everyone else from her.  

The important part, the part that she can use to help Elesa and Colette and everyone else in the building, to stop the bomb, is what happened after she kissed him. 

After she ran. Grabbed her backpack, packed what she remembered and ran. 

Her money quickly ran out. Not that she had very much in the first place. 

Rogue can say honestly she is not sure exactly what brought to stand before an ATM, lacking any bank account of her own to access. 

Only that her fingers moved with a flesh memory not hers, typing out numbers that she couldn’t say now. 

The name on what opens up on the ATM...she almost closes it up right away in response. 

This is her former boyfriend’s account. 

She shouldn’t, but...she bites her lip. He won’t miss it, because of the coma. And she doesn’t have any money of her own, to survive with. 

Surely he wouldn’t mind-?

(He’ll hate her forever, if he wakes up. Everyone will. She’s certain of that.)

She got a lot of money from that account, before the bank realized that a person in a coma shouldn’t be able to access said account and shut it down. 

Well, not a lot. But enough to survive, on the run. 

A bitter taste in her mouth, that she owes her survival to what destroyed her life in the first place. 

To her deadly memory and life stealing touch. 

That is how she can help. 

That is how she can stop the bomb. By touching who set it, to know what they know. 

This is what she tells Miz Elesa. Just that and nothing more. 

Even with the woman accepting that she’s a mutant, Rogue doesn’t think she’ll accept her if she finds out what Rogue has done. 

Who she’s hurt. 

But Nugget...Rogue looks down at the little creature. Who looks back, red eyes lazily half closed, and chirps. Pleased to see her. 

Nugget won’t leave her. Even when she should. That...Rogue takes another breath. Shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. 

She rubs at her arm. “What do we do now?”

“You don’t have to do anything at the moment. Let me and the others take care of this part,” Miz Elesa says, right away. 

She raises her voice to call Colette back into the room. “Colette? I’ve got an idea of what to do now.”

“Should I gather the other gym members?”

“Only the ones that can be spared from repairs and protecting our guests,” Miz Elesa answers. “Gather whoever is willing, outside of that, okay?”

Heels click down the dark hallway as Colette moves instantly to obey. 

Leaving Miz Elesa to turn to talk to her once again. Which is really strange, by the way. Having someone that directly turns to face her, lets her know that she’s paying attention to everything Rogue might say and will care about. 

“Do you want to come? You can stay here with Nugget, if you like.”

Miz Elesa keeps offering her choices. More than what Rogue’s had in a long time. 

(More than what she deserves.)

Rogue looks down at the furry creature tugging at her pant leg. She...won’t leave. She wants to be more, not because Miz Elesa or Nugget want her to but because...

She wants to fight with Nugget. She wants to prove to Miz Elesa that her kindness isn’t misplaced, that Rogue can be a good person even while being a ‘Psychic’ like the woman called her curse. 

“I’m coming with you. Both of us are, me and Nugget.”

Miz Elesa’s smile is as electric as the Emolga squirrel perched on her shoulder. “You got it! Don’t worry, I’ll watch over you. But let’s show these morons the shocking power of the Nimbasa Gym!”

(Rogue won’t let her down.)

A lot of things that Adrian Toomes never thought would happen, in the world. 

One of them being New York City being victim to sudden alien invasion. Another being the sudden appearance of a strange man that can order around monsters showing up to stop other monsters. 

That the man with the monsters, by the name of Subway Master Ingo, is actually arguing on his crew’s behalf...that’s the weirdest shit of all. 

Not even a dream . 

People don’t fight for contract construction workers. Instead they try to cut them out of their dues whenever possible, steal their contracts like what fucking Tony Stark had just been trying here with his “fix New York” agents. 

Not this. Not a guy from an entirely different planet from the sounds of it, insisting that they should be paid for what’s been cleared out so far at the very least. 

To the Avengers’ faces, at that. 

The guy’s monsters are no longer out, but no one doubts that he could take ‘em back out just as fast as before. Almost nerve wracking, if not for the fact this Ingo seems determined to defend his crew. 

The only problem is the collateral damage because the Avengers, well...you only need to look how Adrian got this job in the first place, to see how they do with that. 

One of the Avengers speaks up, the guy in purple with a bow and arrow. 

“Hey, Widow just called in.”

Emmet did not want to lose sight of his twin ever. Again. 

He needs to keep an eye out for the Togekiss and Agent Romanoff, of course. But both come second to his twin. To Ingo. 

He does not sprint towards Ingo. That would be unsafe with the amount of debris scattered about this construction site. 

Walk swiftly, the pace of one who will not be late, that he can do. And does. 

His twin turns to see him and what Emmet can see of his eyes widens. 

“Emmet!”

“Ingo,” Emmet answers. “I have found you. Do not get lost again.”

Ever.

Ingo tips his hat at him. “I will continue to do my best to avoid future derailments, by following the safety protocols.”

That is all he can ask for. Beg for. 

(Oh why does he keep losing his brother? Why do the Dragons hate their balance so?)

Ingo indicates the workers in their surroundings. 

“I have been assisting Mr. Toomes and his men with Pokemon unleashed by rifts.”

“Like you went through in Hisui?” That is verrry not good, for rifts to be happening in this world, so very different from their own. 

Pokemon can survive many places humans do not expect them too, but Emmet is not entirely sure they would prosper in this particular world. 

“Yes, exactly like in Hisui,” Ingo confirms. “If the pattern holds, there will be more in the future.”

“More rifts and Pokemon attacks?” he checks. 

His brother nods. 

Hm, also verrry not good. With the Team Plasma nonsense, they do not have time to be fixing other problems. Team Plasma with the rifts may lead to future negative correspondence between this world and their own. As has happened already. 

Something needs to be done. But what?

He hears the sound of the Togekiss cooing behind him. He turns enough to see what is causing the Pokemon’s pleasant happiness. 

One of the strangers, a man with long blond hair pets at the Togekiss’ head. Smiling brightly as it nudges at him, begging for more. 

There is only one person that this must be: the Togekiss’ trainer. 

“You must be a very strong trainer to have a bond with a powerful Togekiss like that,” Emmet notes out loud. 

He lets the smile on his face get a little bigger. 

“We should battle.”

The blond man laughs. “Oh, it’s been a long time since I’d last battled...I’d love to, but-” he gestures to the Togekiss still cooing and pushing at him, “-this is my only Pokemon. I was...separated from the rest of my team some time ago.”

“How long ago were you separated?” Emmet asks, intertwining gloved fingers together. 

The man tilts his head to the side. “You are rather straightforward about this.”

“It is our way, Volus,” his twin interrupts, waving a hand in this Volus’ direction. “We do our best to make sure the rules are laid out to everyone’s satisfaction, to avoid any misunderstandings and accidents on the tracks!”

“Understandable, in that light,” Volus agrees. 

“Hey, what’s with the train lingo anyway?” The man with the armor asks. 

Lingo. Lingo. 

“It is the proper protocol to follow as the Subway Masters of the Nimbasa Subway and the Battle Subway,” Emmet explains. 

“Keeping on schedule is very important,” his twin adds. “Vital for clarity, in fact.”

Not mere lingo, hmph. Verrry vital for every party involved to understand that simple truth, the reality of the situation. 

Even with reality itself being rather...off the rails. Currently. At the moment. 

“Because of work, got it.”

A dramatic simplification but...Emmet sucks at the inside of his cheek. Correct. For the most part. 

Volus’ phone makes a buzzing noise. Going off. The man, interestingly, takes it out to check. A big enough move that one of the enemies from before asks him about the situation.

“Blondie, hey, this about a babysitter sent from Fury? Because we don’t need anything from him.”

Volus’ face has a stiffness to it, as far as Emmet can tell, as he looks over at the armored man. 

“I do not need to ask him for my own personal requests.”

A laugh from the armored man, who seems to view circumventing this ‘Fury’ funny. The man in purple and black with the bow shrugs. 

“Sure, I guess? Not like any of us have ever had personal requests before.”

Agent Romanoff sighs heavily. “...if you must.”

Her body is tight. Like a Pokemon that’s just been put into a battle for the first time by a new trainer. 

Emmet makes a note to himself to watch the situation to see what he’s missing for her response to be like that. And talk to his brother privately in turn. 

Volus directs his next words to the man in armor. “I do believe that the Subway Masters will be able to help you with the Joltik infestation.”

Joltik infestation? Where? He did not see any of the Bug Types in subway systems here which would be the most logical place, being full of the most electricity and darkness to hide away. 

Unless there is somewhere with more power than a public transit system, but that would be more than a little outrageous-

“Wait, you know about the weird bugs? These ‘Joltik’?” The armored man reaches out to pull at Emmet’s arm. Inappropriate behavior, do not cross the yellow line-!

Emmet pulls free. Checking his white coat. 

“Yes, I do know about Joltik. I have bred and raised many of them.” 

“Good, cuz there’s a load of them in my tower, need some kind of exterminator-”

Exterminator. Emmet’s smile fixates on his face. More of a grimace. All teeth. 

“I do not kill Pokemon.” 

A hand wave, like the man hadn’t just been talking about the needless death of Bug types that have done nothing beyond existing in his tower. 

What kind of world is this, to treat death so casually? Like it does not matter, beyond inconvenience?

“Right, right, wrong words. I mean to say, can you fix my problem?”

Emmet taps his gloved fingers together. The answer is easy, quick to come to mind. 

“No. Not at this current time.”

“What? Why not?”

The answer is also obvious. What kind of man is this?

“Because I am not there to see what the issue with the Joltiks is.” Clearly. 

The armored man laughs. “Right, right. See it for yourself, I get you.”

If Emmet is to look at the Joltik infestation in this man’s tower, it is only fitting that he gets a name for said man. 

No matter how irritating the matter (and man) is. 

“I am Emmet. You are...?”

The armored man sticks out his hand again. “Tony Stark. But you can call me Tony, everyone does.”

Emmet gives him a curt nod. Ignoring the hand. “Very well, Mr. Stark.”

“...Okay then. You...” Mr. Stark coughs. “You two coming with us?”

“Hm?” Emmet looks over at his twin, who by his body language, does not understand where they are ‘coming with’ either. 

No trains, no subways, no walking paths. There are a great deal of smaller vehicles, more cars than Emmet has witnessed before, but surely there are too many on the street to make it to their stop on time?

His brother, thankfully, picks up what is wrong with the situation. 

“How are we expected to arrive at your station?”

The man in purple jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “We took the Quinjet, extra passengers won’t be a problem.”

“A plane,” Agent Romanoff helpfully clarifies. “A small private plane.”

The two of them hiss in unison.

“No planes,” Ingo says firmly, putting up gloved hands. 

“Absolutely no planes,” Emmet follows up. 

Too noisy, always off schedule, never any clear safety features for the passengers to properly follow...planes are the worst. 

The group all look at each other.

“How do you plan to get there?” Mr. Stark asks. Like his question will change their answer.

Ingo answers for them both. “If there is no subway that leads to your station, then we will walk.”

Emmet flicks his hands at his sides. “Like I did with Agent Romanoff. With the proper directions, walking is no issue for us.”

“I can walk with them,” Agent Romanoff offers. Truly living up to her duty, Emmet gives her a single approving nod. 

“Really, Nat, you want to walk some more after all that?” The man in purple makes a circular gesture with a hand. 

“It won’t be a problem,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Anyone want to join us?”

“I could use a decent run,” the man in blue with the shield speaks up, for the first time. 

“Wanting to relive your military days?” Mr. Stark says. 

“To do that, I would need more mud to wade through,” the man with the shield says, most likely joking with his teammate. Because they are teammates, are they not? They must be, this strange group of individuals. 

Ingo shuffles his feet in the manner he does when he wants to say something but feels cautious about interrupting. 

That is alright, Emmet will interrupt for him. He coughs. Loudly. 

“What is the next step on our itinerary?”

Ingo gladly speaks up, though his frown stays the same as ever, most likely confusing this team in the process. “I would like Mr. Toomes or one of his fellow employees to come with us.”

More silence. Enough of these silences have occurred at this point, for Emmet to conclude that they’re of surprise. 

Shocked, over and over. 

Well, he supposes this is off the tracks for these people as well. But they could try to do better on their half, in responding. 

“Why?” Agent Romanoff asks, straight to the point. 

“I fear that they will not get the pay they deserve if I do not continue to assist in their cause.” Ingo taps his fingers together. “We then must go to the top! ...if you agree, Mr. Toomes?”

The man who must this Mr. Toomes works his jaw. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do not,” his brother agrees. “But I would like to offer my assistance. It is up to you whether you want it or not.”

Another cause, carried by his twin. Emmet makes a mental note to get more details later, so he can determine the best way for him to be a supportive measure. 

“Go ahead, boss, it’s your show,” one of the workers says. 

At that, the man finally nods in agreement, cautiously stepping towards them. Closer to Ingo than Emmet, only correct and fine in this situation. 

The man with the shield clears his throat. “Now that’s settled, should we be going?”

Agent Romanoff smiles. “Let's.”

The two walk on ahead, Mr. Toomes rushing a bit to catch up. 

“Forward!” Emmet points after their guides.

“All speed ahead!” Ingo agrees. 

Together once more. 

🥚- Are you on your way?

🥚- Because we will be soon recongregating at Stark’s tower. 

🐖- HOLD ON

🐖- CANT JUST SEND ME THAT ADHKFSJ

🐖- first ur there then not. then there again

🥚- These Avengers are...flighty. 

🐖- dude

🐖- no one uses ellipses anymore

🐖- old man

🥚- You still understood what I meant, didn’t you? 

🥚- Is that not the point?

🥚- Estimated arrival time, if you would. 

🐖- sigh

🐖- omw

Hilda White hugs her bag against her chest, heart racing.  

The New York subway is as crowded as ever, but a pleasant reminder of the Battle Subway she misses so much, in some ways. One of the reasons she moved here, actually, for how much the city reminds her of Nimbasa. 

Her search for N was never meant to take her so far from home. Definitely not in a different world entirely.

But better a different world than...

(Ghetsis, saying something profoundly stupid as always. He directs the strange Kyurem underneath him, and it opens its jaws to shoot something at her-! N is screaming but it’s too late.)

(Always too late.)

Hilda focuses. Not that, not that. 

Focus on the now.  

She heaves in a loud breath into her lungs. Getting a nasty look from the old lady sitting next to her in the process. 

Would they remember her?

(Did they miss her?)

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers to herself. “It’ll be good to see them again, either way.”

Sure, Hilda might prefer for them to remember her. Honestly, though, she’s just happy that they’re here because the Subway Masters being here means...there’s a way home. 

A way back to Cheren and Bianca and all of her friends-!

To her Pokemon.

Especially her daring Emboar, how is he without her?

(She hopes they’re okay, all of them.)

She’s just lucky that Volus’ been around too. That she’s not the only person in the world that knows Pokemon are real and not just cartoon characters on a screen for children. 

Sometimes, when someone finds out she’s an animator for the Pokemon series and chatters on and on about her work, she wants to scream. 

Stomp her foot and say, they’re real, all of them! Ash isn’t, but the Pokemon and people are! 

(She’s not crazy.)

But she doesn’t, because that would be crazy. 

At least, it would be until this alien attack on New York. An attack that proves to everyone on Earth that other life exists. That Hilda might have a chance to reveal the truth always burning in her gut. 

The subway announcement clicks above, interrupting her thoughts. 

Isn’t it saying something about-?

Hilda jumps to her feet. Almost dropping her bag in the process, oops, can’t lose that!

“Oh wait! That’s my stop!” 

Stark (Avengers?) Tower, here she comes!

Chapter Text

Steve woke up a couple decades into the future and just fought aliens, so he’d like to think he’s more flexible on what is and isn’t possible.

The bizarre monsters that these two individuals carry around? Not stranger than the Chitauri whales or whatever those flying things were. 

The two fellas being in charge of a subway? Well, everyone’s got to have a job. 

A subway isn’t the worst thing they could be from. He’s mostly relieved that the two aren’t actually here to invade. But that relief’s tempered by the fact that there are other monster owners that are to attack and take over. 

Will these two subway conductors be enough?

Steve has no idea. 

And...he glances over at the red haired woman walking next to him. There’s something even more thought-provoking about the mess. 

Natasha, a spy down to the bone, seeming okay with them wandering off ahead...that’s beyond what he knows about her. 

What does she know that leads her to act like this?

“Why aren’t we stopping them?” he asks her. Might as well, even if she’s a spy and the answer will be tricky if it comes at all. “After the entire mess in the subway and that. I didn’t think S.H.I.E.L.D. would be so understanding about the situation.”

Especially considering the Strike Team’s reaction to letting the Conductor’s brother pass on by. Angry is the easiest description Steve could use for them. 

“You of all people should know that S.H.I.E.L.D. would let all kinds of situations go, in trade for stronger allies, hm,” she replies. 

The edge of her lips twitch. “Besides, do you think the two of us can stop that without backup?” 

She nods towards where the two have a floating eel and a floating chandelier (?) out to make space around them in the crowd. 

Fair. 

“...was it alright, being around them in the tunnels?” he has to ask, even though the odds are decent she’ll lie straight to his face. 

She appears thoughtful. Twirling her hair in a gesture that’s definitely faked. 

“If Ingo is anything like his brother Emmet, he’ll be remarkably straightforward. And that’s what we’ve seen so far.”

“What we see is what we get, then.” Steve nods. He can work with that. 

Especially their interest in getting the other fella following after involved in a union. Good for them. One of the worst things he’s noticed about the future is how much less unions are around helping folks out. Not a change for the better, in his opinion.  

“Don’t threaten their companions. Or either one of them,” she advises. “They will not respond well whatsoever.”

That is simple enough to guess. People don’t react well to threats against their friends and family. 

(Steve definitely didn’t with...Bucky.)

Right. They’re here. Steve slows to a stop. Gesturing their guests to come towards them. They do so, after calling their monsters back to wherever they keep them. 

“This is the tower,” Natasha says. 

The two look it up and down. If they’re impressed, Steve can’t tell with their immovable facial expressions. 

Eventually, though, the Conductor points directly at the busy front doors. 

“All aboard!”

The two refuse the stairs. Which is certainly...something.

Steve’s fine, of course. Natasha would never admit that 

Their guest, Mr. Toomes, is huffing and puffing, though. But he keeps up. Good for him?

Up and up they go, until they hit the floor Miss Potts is on. Working on something for Stark Industries, no doubt. 

“You are in charge of this facility, correct?” The man in white, Emmet, the Conductor, gets straight to business. 

Miss Potts taps her fingers against the desk in front of her, lips pursed in thoughtful curiosity. “You could say I own twelve percent of this tower.”

A small smile, about an inside joke Steve guesses, before she clarifies. 

“Yes, I am the CEO of Stark Industries. How may I help you?”

Miss Potts raises a red eyebrow. Waiting. 

The Conductor and his twin don’t slow down. At all. Mostly the twin, Ingo, claps his hands down on her desk. 

“Excellent. We are here to assist Mister Toomes in gaining a permit to help repair this city.”

“Toomes? Is that-?” She turns her direction to other stranger, Mr. Toomes. “Are you him?”

Mr. Toomes coughs into his hand, feet shuffling. “That’s right, ma’am. I...don’t mean to be any trouble. I only want to continue the work my coworkers and I started without losing it to another company, like yours.”

“Losing it? Why...hnn.” Miss Potts taps her fingers against the table once more. “This may take a more in-depth discussion. Do you have anything on hand to support your claim?”

“Uh. I can get something from guys back on sight?” Mr. Toomes pulls out a phone, starts clicking at it. 

“Jarvis, can you help with that?” She directs her words towards the ceiling.

“Right away, Miss Potts,” Jarvis acknowledges, everywhere and nowhere at once. Still makes Steve jump every time. 

The twins don’t, though. 

“You have a Rotom in this tower?” Emmet glances about, curious. 

Ingo hums. “Certainly high tech enough for that.”

Jarvis answers, “I am not a ‘Rotom,’ though I am certain that Sir would be appreciative of the pun it embodies as a ‘ghost in a machine.’ I am what is called AI, or Artificial Intelligence.”

A Rotom must be mentioned in the cartoon series Barton watched, for Jarvis to know about it. Of course Tony’s AI is on top of that. 

But the twins look confused about the idea of AI without a monster in it. 

“A living computer,” Steve hurries to add. Maybe that’ll help, knowing that?

“More of a Porygon,” the twin in black muses. 

“Elesa knows more about Electric types, it could be one of those,” the other tries. 

Huh, they don’t really know what to do outside what they know, these twins. Steve’s known a few people like that, but Ingo and Emmet so far have been the worst offenders. 

Getting to help outside of a Pokemon-monster problem like the Joltik might be...an issue. Will be a problem. 

The elevator dings open. A familiar bearded face peeks through. 

“You miss our beautiful faces?”

The elevator opens up further. Its passengers?

Only the Avengers. Tony and Barton. They’re missing their blond advisor. 

“Where’s Volus, Clint?” Natasha’s already asking.

Barton shrugs. “Wanted to talk to his Togekiss longer, said he’d catch up. With how close the characters in the show are to their Pokemon, probably even closer in real life.”

He shrugs again. “Don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

Yeah. With how big that bird-thing is...yeah, best to avoid a mess. 

Tony’s trying to talk to Emmet, the Conductor, again, up ahead as the man insists on using the stairs instead of heading towards the elevator for some reason. 

“Upwards and onwards, huh, Casey Jones?”

“I am Emmet.”

“I know that, just- it’s a nickname, got it?”

“I am Emmet.”

“He is Emmet.”

That’s an argument that won’t go anywhere good. But Tony wouldn’t appreciate Steve trying to smooth things over, so he’ll just...do his best in the background instead. 

“Dr. Banner’s still upstairs, right?” Steve asks quietly. 

“Yes,” Natasha breathes back, picking up her step. “Hurry, we don’t need to be left behind.”

Right. 

Not sure how that would go off, the twins and Tony getting there by themselves. 

Probably not great, if he had to guess. 

Barton won’t appreciate being left alone to that. 

Steve’s dealt with a lot of ‘not great’ so far. He can deal with this too. 

Bruce Banner isn’t sure what to do next. 

Stayed in the tower, volunteered to stay in the tower though he didn’t really need to. Because everyone agreed. They didn’t need the Other Guy wandering the streets of New York again, not so soon after the Chitauri invasion that still hasn’t been cleaned up. 

Plus sturdy supervision of the tower, in case the spiders did turn violent with their electricity? Useful. 

So Bruce stayed behind. Observing. 

The yellow spiders have been...gathering. Swarming. 

Not only around Tony’s bots, like the first one they saw. But also around Bruce himself. It’s...strange, looking up from his books, his projects, and being surrounded by a growing crowd of unnaturally yellow spiders. 

Even stranger for any kind of animal to gravitate towards him after...the accident. 

(They all seem to sense the growling and groaning of the Other Guy beneath the surface. Sense and flee from him.)

Bruce rubs at his face. Attempting to wipe away whatever expression could be on it, despite his lack of human audience. Don’t need to get out of practice now. 

(Can’t afford to.)

“Doctor Banner,” Jarvis says. “Sir and the others have returned to the tower alongside the Conductor.”

That works. Guess it was just a misunderstanding then, if the Conductor’s coming here instead of being arrested by S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Thank you for letting me know. That’s good.”

Gives a little time to prepare, as he waits for everyone to flood in on this floor. 

“Hey, we brought in some experts to take care of our little bug problem!”

Tony Stark. The first to speak out and up, of course. The rest of the Avengers are here too, the agents, Captain America. Bruce looks up from his book that he’s been attempting to read for the last half hour. 

And.

There’s the Conductor...and someone who looks exactly like him, but in black? Frowning while the Conductor keeps on smiling. Otherwise, the same. 

It takes Bruce an embarrassingly long time to put together the thought ‘they must be twins.’ Says too much about the world they live in that clones came to mind first. 

“I am Emmet,” the Conductor introduces himself. 

“I am Ingo,” says the twin in black. 

They bow as one. “A pleasure to meet you, peacefully.”

Then the twin in white gets straight away to business, turning to Tony as he jabs his fingers towards the walls. Walls full of otherworldly spiders. 

“The simplest way to rid yourself of a Joltik invasion or any Electric Pokemon invasion is to turn off the power source they are attracted to.” Emmet twirls a finger. 

Makes sense, but...

“I can’t just shut off the entire tower.” Tony throws up his hands. “I mean, of course there’s failsafes, don’t want New York to go up like a Roman candle if the Arc Reactor spins wrong. But it’s meant to keep going. As an energy source.”

“Ah. It would be like touching the third rail.” Emmet nods. “I understand.” 

...he doesn’t understand that comparison. What. 

The man in white presses his gloved index fingers together. “Hm. I must talk to the Joltik here, yes. That would be the best first step to take.”

“Uh, you can talk to them?” Bruce asks. That would be nice to know, to get the little spiders off of him. But they don’t seem to listen to him. Maybe you need to be from their actual dimension to talk to them?

“Through my Galvantula’s assistance, of course.”

That...Bruce’s face pinches. Almost makes more sense?

“You guys can actually talk to your Pokemon? Like in the cartoons?” Agent Barton is too excited about this, seriously. 

“Cartoons.” Emmet tugs at his hat.

“Is that what Volus did here?” Ingo speaks up, rubbing at his chin. “Cartoons?”

“Yeah, he’s the creator of ‘em here. Guess he missed home a lot...” 

“Your world lacks Pokemon and any sense of order in your train system. Of course he missed home,” Emmet states. Completely uncaring about how offensive that sounds. But then, Bruce’s pretty sure that’s just how he operates. Explains how the Avengers picked a fight with him in the first place. 

“That bigger spider of yours can do that...I see,” Agent Romanoff says to Emmet, tapping a finger against her thigh. Pulling it back to subject at hand. 

Wait, bigger spider? “How big is bigger?” Bruce asks. 

The Joltik already are bigger than most spiders could ever grow to be...

“Oh, fairly large. Quite large.” Agent Romanoff shows off her teeth. 

Agent Barton’s face twitches, going through an entire show of emotions. 

Emmet ignores him, hand plucking out a red and white ball from his large pockets. He clicks it and Bruce’s left blinking lights out of his eyes. 

Left facing a bright yellow spider with very visible mandibles and blinking blue eyes, legs spread out and grasping. Marked with blue fur and brownish patterns. 

The size of Captain America’s shield . Gleefully pulling at its owner’s coat without a care in the world. 

That’s a big spider. Mad scientist sized. 

“That’s a fucking big spider,” Agent Barton breathes what everyone else thinks. 

Emmet waits, seemingly ignorant of pretty much everyone else’s visceral reaction to the beast as it crawls through the nearest vent. Barely fitting through. 

“Now, we wait.”

“There is more...electricity in the tower. But it is not changing my function in any way, instead increasing it in a controlled manner,” Jarvis’s voice echoes from above. “Do you have an explanation for that, sirs?”

“The webbing of a Galvantula can serve as makeshift wiring, due to the voltage running through it,” Ingo explains. 

“Galvantula’s weaving a way through, no need to worrry,” Emmet adds. “It will add more energy to use, the patterns of webs and wires.”

“That’s...” Tony’s speechless, for once. And it’s completely understandable. 

A native animal that can just produce electric wiring on its own? Tons of companies would love that. Love to take advantage of it too. 

(As much as the military, Ross, seeks out the Other Guy for their own ends.)

Doesn’t take long for the spider, the Tula, whatever it is, to crawl back out to its owner. It chitters and hisses, and Emmet nods like the sounds make sense. 

“I understand. Ingo, we will need another energy source for the Joltik to seek out.”

“A living source would be better.” Ingo taps his gloved hands together, tugging at his sleeves. 

“To draw them away in clusters,” Emmet agrees, in whatever train of thought they’re traveling. Away from everyone else in the room, who just looks confused. Except for Agent Romanoff, who would possibly die if she ever showed how confused she actually was. 

“You!” A gloved finger from the Conductor jabs in Bruce’s direction.

“Yeah?” He blinks. 

“Oh no.” Agent Romanoff has gone pale. 

(As pale as her face when he began...when the Other Guy came out on the helicarrier.)

That’s not good. Not good at all. 

“The Joltik like you best, of the people here. If we increase that energy drawing them in, we can draw them out of the tower with your assistance.”

Increasing whatever attracts the Joltik. 

“Bad idea,” slips out from his lips, as his brain puts together what the spiders must be interested in: his gamma energy. The gamma energy that forms the Other Guy. 

“Why is that bad?” One twin asks. He’s not sure which, trying to collect himself.

No use hiding the answer. Not when they need it as clear as possible.  

“I transform into a city destroying monster.” Bruce swallows. “Most call the Other Guy...the Hulk.”

(His neverending anger rumbles. Something stirring underneath. The Other Guy.)

Their response, like everything else, is a surprise. Maybe Bruce should resign himself to them just not making sense by how Earth works. 

“You are like a Darmanitan, then!” Ingo claps his hands together. 

“Or that Morpeko a trainer brought from Galar?” Emmet proposes, smile twitching at the edges. “They get verrry angry, when they change forms.”

“I believe the term was called ‘hangry,’ Emmet.”

A dismissive hand wave. “Angry, yes, that is what I said.”

Maybe Bruce should have expected this. Of course people walking around with monsters in their pockets wouldn’t be concerned about a person that literally turns into a monster himself. 

“You don’t get it, the Other Guy, it’s dangerous,” Bruce stresses. 

“Trains are dangerous,” Ingo says, hands behind his back. “We follow the proper safety protocol to lessen that danger. What are your safety protocols?”

“Give us the guidelines and we will follow them,” his brother adds. 

Their gray eyes together are intent on Bruce. Not on his face, or anywhere near his eyes, but they’re attempting to show their attention at least. 

Bruce doesn’t have any hope that if the two see any kind of footage of the Harlem incident (for example) that this support will continue. But it’s nice while it lasts. 

Sort of. Kind of. 

He hopes they don’t end up getting people killed. 

“What about making a different kind of signal that the Joltik will like?” Rogers interrupts, trying to redirect the conversation. Which works too. Pretty well. 

“Creating another signal elsewhere will be the perfect bait!” Tony grins. He snaps his fingers. “Now, need to figure out what to use for the signal...”

This isn’t going to end well, by any means. 

But damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t. Bruce’ll see where it leads. 

Miss Colette and Miz Elesa chat quietly behind Rogue. But everyone’s still keeping a careful eye out. For any other attackers. 

Rogue tunes in, to catch the last part of their conversation. 

“-signal shouldn’t be able to get through.”

Miz Elesa snorts, shaking her long braids about. “What kind of idiot doesn’t expect signal shielding in an Electric Gym?”

“This one apparently, my lady,” Colette answers calmly. 

The last part before the adults start paying attention again. Instead of whatever they’re talking about. 

“You ready for this, Rogue?” Miz Elesa asks. 

Rogue almost rolls her eyes. She keeps asking this and it’s not like Rogue’s answer is going to change anytime soon. 

The hallways are still dark from whatever the terrorists did earlier. But it’s getting slightly lighter as Miz Elesa leads them closer to the center of the ‘gym.’ A place that looks creepy from the shadows cast by the many many roller coaster rails. 

How strange, to have a place that just...has indoor roller coasters. Everywhere. 

Miz Elesa pauses near the centermost roller coaster, colored with pink and green stars. 

“Shadow of Team Plasma. We’re here to stop you!”

Someone peels out of the darkness near the roller coaster. 

“Very well. This might be it, Gym Leader. The end of your efforts.”

She’s not sure if the person’s a guy or girl, with the way they’re hiding in the shadows and from how they dress. 

Pants and a shirt, sure. But also long white hair, fingerless gloves, and random swatches of black cloth hanging from the waist and arms. 

“I don’t listen to threats from terrorists.” Miz Elesa’s rolling a ball in hand. One of those that holds her monsters. 

The shadowed figure’s eyes narrow. 

“You know the consequences. Say farewell to Nimbasa’s ambition. ”

A gloved hand raises a remote of some kind. Clicks a button on it. 

Rogue’s shoulders hitch up, her breath catches. 

Nothing happens. Nothing at all. 

They frown. Clicks the button again. Still nothing. 

The woman grins. “You really think I’d come in here leaving you a way to set off that bomb? No way! That’s the opposite of ‘ the bomb’!”

“No flunkies could stand up to the electrifying might of the Nimbasa City Gym!” Colette agrees, hands on her hips. 

“If you claim that...”

The guy, the leader, raises a wrapped up arm. 

“Then face up against the might of the volcano! Against the shadow of death itself!”

The guy waves their arm. Gesturing in command. And a whole crowd of people like the one that attacked her and Nugget earlier pour out. From every roller coaster around them. 

That, and a pack of new monsters. Red and black and white, and covered in knives. 

Flashes of light everywhere. Monsters unleashed, chaos! Rogue can’t keep up!

Misses Colette and Elesa are stuck in their own fights, using their pink sheep and lightning zebra respectively. Surrounded by so many people and monsters attacking them. 

Leaving Rogue alone. Without the help they promised. 

“Where are your defenders now?” The figure gestures to its own monster of blades. Ax-blades, much taller than the others. “Bisharp, Guillotine.”

Stabbing at Nugget. Slicing. No!

“Leave her alone!”

That taller bladed monster keeps stabbing at Nugget. Over and over, won’t leave her alone. Enough to draw red. Drawing blood. 

And that’s not normal for these monster fights, because Miz Elesa is shouting too, telling the owner of the monster to “stop it, right now!” 

(Looking afraid, wrinkles pinched around her eyes.)

Knowing that much, Rogue dives forward. Reaching out just enough to sweep up Nugget into her arms. Sliding out of the way, the best she can. 

Getting the stabbing monster’s attention, of course. And the stabbing monster’s owner. 

“What is a foolish girl like you doing?”

Rogue glares. She may be pretty stupid, but...

“You don’t hurt Nugget like that!”

Light eyebrows raise over her enemy’s eyes. “If you insist on getting in the way...”

A clicking of fingers. The swarm of stabby creatures, smaller versions of the one that attacked Nugget, move in. 

Surrounding Rogue. 

She grits her teeth. Most people...no hope now. But. Rogue tugs at her borrowed gloves, lets them fall off. One last trick. 

(Hope it works on monsters like it does on humans.)

Her fingers brush against the closest monster. 

-pack-fight-lead-trappedbyleader-trappedbyleadersHUMAN-hurt-dontwant-

The flash of memory and energy cut away, stopping almost as soon as it began. 

But instead of her draining its life away, the monster she’s touched is still standing. Looking at her. 

The small bladed monster blinks orange eyes at her. 

But Rogue knows what it is now. Pawniard. A Pokemon that follows the strongest, part of a pack that chases that strength. 

And Rogue has just proven herself stronger. 

The Pawniard puts its bladed limbs up to catch the edges of its former leader, the monster that belongs to the bad guy leader. 

“What? What are you doing?”

The other Pawniard chatter and hiss, but back off. Allowing the challenger to take its stand. 

But the Pawniard’s claws are already trembling. Unable to take this pressure forever. Soon it will fall like Nugget did. And Rogue can’t do anything to stop it. 

“No-!”

“Not this time!”

Elesa stands before Rogue now. Protecting her in a way no adult ever has. 

“You think you can sneak up while I’m busy? Think again!” Elesa dramatically flicks her hands at her chest. “Thanks, Pawniard, for buying some time. I’ll take charge, in the most electrifying fashion!”

Her lightning zebra calls out in echo, pawning its hoof against the ground. 

“Now, Zebstrika, Flame Charge!”

The ‘Zebstrika’ lights itself on fire and races forward. 

Enough to knock the enemy off their feet, and their monster too. Now, while she has her chance...

Rogue presses a hand against their fallen enemy’s exposed hand. 

That Guillotine hurt! 

The Sneasel knows she’s still little by most terms, but for that attack to hurt so much is embarrassing! 

She groans, picking herself up to tap at her skull with a claw. Bad ouch, ouch. 

There. There’s one of those Pawniard poking at- the Sneasel sits up right away. 

Not right, not touching her sunshine-blood-metal human!

“That’s MY human you’re touching.”

Pawniard clicks at her. “Your human? You didn’t do a very good job of protecting her.”

Annoyed but at least the Pawniard is no longer touching sunshine-blood-metal. But Sneasel won’t take the insult lying down. None of her egg-kin ever would. 

Sneasel bristles. “Hey! I’m still getting stronger!”

“Sure.”

She sticks her tongue out in a hiss. “Why do you care? She’s not yours.”

“Why not? She could be!”

She gapes at the audacity this Dark-Type has! To claim her human, the human she picked out first. 

“She’s mine!” 

“Well, she’s mine now.” The Pawniard sharpens her blades against each other. Shing-shing. In an attempted threat. 

But it’s certainly no Bisharp. Like the one that tried to attack her human and attacked her before. 

The Sneasel eyes the other Pokemon, measuring. Doesn’t she have a Type advantage against her, actually? She can take it!

“What’s that look for?”

Sneasel bares her teeth. “Try it!”

“...you’re a fighter. Good.”

Huh? Sneasel blinks, head feather twitching slightly, as the Pawniard...withdraws the challenge? Why?

Pawniard huffs, folding her blades over her chest. 

“Have to make sure that my human has a good support. One that will get BETTER if not best right now. 

Hey!

The Sneasel sniff-snorts in the other’s direction, showing off her disapproval. She is the best for her human right now.  

She loves her human. And she’s going to let her know that. Right now. 

Prove the Pawniard wrong too. 

Before sunshine-blood-metal can stop her, the Sneasel rubs her cheek against a furless face. Flashes. Her human’s eyes widen as she pulls her face away. Too late. 

Her memories pulled to the surface. Like a Psychic Pokemon might do, with an Ability. 

- warm-milk-mothermother-Sneasler!-Ingo-and-Emmet-hershershers-

But the Sneasel doesn’t care, it’s not the worst Psychic Attack she’s faced! Just very...tiring...

She droops. She wobbles.

Ah. Sleepy...

Nugget flops over, limp. 

“Nugget!” Rogue cries out. Her hands, even gloved as they are, hover over the Sneasel rather than possibly cause more harm. 

The poor girl. 

Good thing Elesa’s here to help, like any good Gym Leader (and person) should do!

“Hold on!” She carefully moves Rogue aside, by the shoulders. As gently as she can manage, but the poor girl still flinches. 

“I’ve got some Ethers and other things that can help!”

Since those Psychic abilities seem to drain energy like Litwicks do...a Max Ether should do the trick for that tuckered out Nugget. But there are Potions too, if it’s a different kind of health issue. For the stab wounds most especially. 

(Team Plasma...such hypocrites. To hurt Pokemon that they claim to want to protect so seriously-!)

At the sniff of the Max Ether, Nugget perks up. Wonderful.

“Have a sip.”

Recovery is quick, and Rogue’s mood lifts alongside Nugget. 

“Grr-ah?” Oh yes, the Pawniard that decided to help out Rogue. Must be wild, Elesa doesn’t see a Team Plasma Shadow wasting a Pokeball on it when they already have its evolution at hand. 

Looks banged up, in the normal ‘had a good Battle’ fashion. 

Elesa takes out a Potion to offer. 

“This will work for your Pawniard, if you’d like.”

“Is that...okay?” Rogue looks at the Pawniard instead of Elesa, very good. 

The Pokemon nods, flicking its blades back and forth. Rogue accepts the bottle. 

She carefully applies the Potion spray until the Dark-type looks as good as new. Or as close as it’s going to get, until everyone has a chance to visit a Pokemon Center. 

“Everyone good?”

At everyone’s nod, Rogue clears her throat to draw their attention. 

“I want to get the bomb taken care of before I...forget.” The girl grimaces like she’s tasted a too sour Berry. Which she might have, Elesa isn’t exactly sure how being a Psychic works. Only that Rogue shouldn’t have had to do what she did for them. 

“Quickest way to the control room, follow me.”

The sounds of battles around them. Her employees taking out more of Team Plasma, no doubt. But to make it matter, the bomb needs to be turned off. 

The control room is untouched, with its screens and switches. Untouched but for the electricity stealing bomb sitting near the room’s center. 

Like how Elesa left it, ticking away to an inevitable explosion. 

“There it is. Can you still do it?” She hates to ask...

Rogue nods confidently. “I can.”

Breath caught in her throat, she watches the girl walk over to the ticking bomb. 

Almost like watching another person entirely, seeing Rogue tap out the code. The slouch, the way her fingers click and move, the stance of her legs...it reminds Elesa of the Shadow. The way they stood and moved. 

Ah, yes, she can see why people would be frightened of Rogue’s physic abilities. Especially people with no experience of such abilities existing in the first place, that would be hard on them and Rogue herself. 

She won’t let the girl be alone. She promises. 

Numbers counting down become nothing, a blank screen. Threatening energy fizzles out, becoming stored away for whatever later atrocity one wants to commit. 

Rogue lifts away her gloved fingers. Heaving out a sign, normal girl once more. 

“There. It shouldn’t go off and you can call the police or whatever to take it away.”

The bomb has been deactivated. Nimbasa, the Gym, the people...they’re safe. 

This danger is over. 

Elesa bows her head. 

“Thank you.”

“We owe you a great debt.” Colette bows as well, as formal as always. 

“No you don’t. I just...helped. That’s all.” Rogue rubs at her face, glancing away with red burning in her cheeks. 

“Helped in a way few people can manage, and you didn’t like doing it. We owe you,” Elesa insists. She glances over at Colette. 

“Would you mind-?” Her employee knows her well enough that Elesa doesn’t have to finish her request out loud: running a status check on the Gym as a whole, normally a Gym Leader’s duty, while she helps Rogue out. 

“Of course not. It will be no trouble.”

In a swirl of skirts, Colette sets off to check on the rest of the Gym’s employees and visitors. Leaving Rogue and Elesa to their own devices. Along with their Pokemon, of course!

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Elesa asks. She’ll have to convince Rogue on how much she helped out later. Hopefully letting time pass on the topic will help that out. 

“Um. Can I get some clean clothes?” The girl appears sheepish. Tugging at her dirty shirt, oh, she really could use some clothes. 

“Of course, that won’t be a problem,” Elesa assures, already clicking her way to the nearest changing station. “I do modeling, so there should be something that will work for you!”

“Oh, modeling?” Brown eyes glance over, taking Elesa in. “That makes sense.”

“Like what you see?” Elesa smiles and preens, being sure to keep the playfulness clear in every gesture. 

“You’re, um, pretty? Like models are?” Rogue’s cheeks are pink, as she tries to keep up with Elesa’s long strides. 

Nugget, of course, hurries after, and the Pawniard follows too. Not leaving Rogue along, excellent companions that they are. 

A closet, right next to the changing room. Just what she needs. 

Keeping Rogue’s particular needs in mind, picking out an outfit for her is easy-peasy!

Gloves first, this black pair that goes to the elbow will be perfect, petal pattern cut at the end and the material is thin enough to cut back on sweating palms. A cropped jean jacket, easy to slide on and off. A simple black shirt with a neon blue lightning bolt dashed from left shoulder to right hip. 

Black tights, blue shorts that match the electric pattern on the shirt.

No good shoes, but she has a feeling the girl won’t want to give up her boots. Good on her!

The completed ensemble is...

Blue and black, not quite Rogue’s colors, but they’ll work for now. 

Won’t fit perfectly since well, Rogue is a teenager while everyone else here is an adult, but it’ll work well enough for now! Until Elesa can buy her some proper clothes, just for her. 

“This should work.” She offers Rogue the pile, who accepts it with a nod. 

The girl pauses. About to close the door, her Pokemon squirming in before her. 

“...is there anything I can use to clean off, really quick?”

“There’s some wipes you can use, if you want,” Elesa offers. 

Wipes that they usually use to give the Gym Pokemon a quick clean after particularly exciting battles, since you can’t exactly hose off an Electric Pokemon without getting electrocuted. 

She hopes Rogue doesn’t mind. 

“Where?” The question comes muffled through the newly closed door. 

They’re...Elesa taps her manicured fingers against her chin, recalling. 

“Black cabinets, third drawer down. Near the back.” Pretty sure. 

Sounds of drawers opening and closing. She waits patiently, petting Emolga as she does. 

The door opens. 

Rogue walks through. 

She looks adorable, a regular fashionista!

To what Elesa gave her, she’s added a yellow scarf tied about her neck and a just as yellow flat cap. A dash of color that makes the girl really look like she’s part of the Nimbasa Gym.

And of course, she’s kept the gloves from Ingo. Not wearing them, but they’re there nonetheless, hanging from her new jacket’s pocket. Aw.

“I changed what you gave me, hope you don’t mind?”

“No, no, you have good taste!” Elesa waves her hands about, eager to drive that look of nervousness away.  

Emolga chirps in agreement, flicking his tail. 

“In fact-” she smiles, unable to resist, clapping her hands together “-you look Bi- sharp .”

Rogue looks confused, not annoyed at the pun or shivering at her close call. 

...Right, she doesn’t know the different types of Pokemon. Probably a good thing in this case?

She’s darling, really.  

Nugget and the Pawniard dance about Rogue’s boots, chasing each other. Nothing harmful, nothing meant to hurt, from what Elesa can tell. 

A cute team. She can’t wait to see how it’ll go. So far Rogue is a very promising Trainer, one that Elesa would be more than happy to sponsor. 

...if Colette doesn’t try to beat her to it, of course, ha!

Speaking of Colette, her XTransceiver goes off with a message from the Lady. 

Something about how...their dimensional travelers are getting restless?

Ah. Yes. Time to take care of that, now that Team Magma and Plasma’s bomb is no longer an issue. 

She clears her throat, drawing Rogue’s attention to her. 

“We’re attempting to get your fellow passengers back to your world. Would you like to come with?” she offers. 

“...okay.”

The girl looks nervous? Like really nervous? Elesa nibbles at her tongue. Why?

It’s not like they’re going to make Rogue go back. 

It’s been made more than clear that the girl doesn’t really have anywhere to go back to. 

No way Elesa would force anyone into that situation, let alone a girl who hasn’t even gone on a Pokemon Journey yet!

Also, Nugget would probably poison Elesa to death. And the cute little Pawniard that Rogue’s picked up would do some stabbing. 

Either of those? No thanks!

Emogla rubs his cheek against her neck, the prick of static a comforting reminder. Yes, she can do this. She can help Rogue and the rest of these ‘passengers’ from another world that her boys found. 

“Let’s go for it!”

Chapter Text

IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT PAST...

The man once known as Volo frowns at the destruction taking place before him. 

The attack falling upon New York City is a surprise, to say the least. Who knew that this would happen the very week he had to come into town for some business?

This world Volo fell into so long ago is one that’s been cut off from others, much less prone to the chaos of his home. Chaos that he in part contributed to, he will not deny, though that chaos was for a greater case. 

One that did not come to fruition, in the end. 

(Judgement fell upon him.)

He heaves out a breath between clenched teeth, looking down from the rooftop he’s picked to watch from. 

Everyone else has either fled or been harmed by the attackers coming in from the distortion torn open above the city. Attackers that are certainly no rogue Pokemon, a bit too humanoid and elemental-lacking for that. 

He may no longer have his companions to protect him, but that’s alright. 

(His heart aches.)

He’s survived worse without them. 

From his rooftop, Volo spies someone quite interesting. Different from the human norm, large and green. Hm. 

Talking to...that one. Volo grimaces. Tasting bitter barley in the back of his throat in memory of their last encounter. Oh, that one he knows all too well. 

The Ancient One, here in the Americas? Outside her precious Sanctum? 

Volo hunkers down to watch. 

She never leaves her lands, what could be so important to draw her attention here? Surely the large green man isn’t it. The man reeks of a power akin to some nasty Pokemon Volo’s had the misfortune of running into in the past but nothing truly Legendary in scope. 

Yet. She’s talking to that man. Too far for him to hear, but she’s talking to the man and hearing him out instead of just outright dismissing him. 

(Like she did to Volo. )

A flash of green, a familiar energy that the Ancient One bears. He blinks his eyes to clear them from the sudden light and power. A power he knows the feel of down to his bones.

Time. Ah yes, Volo remembers the Ancient One’s guardianship of that strange stone well. He’s still not certain what said stone is, which galls him to admit. His current theory is that it’s an egg and one day, when this world ends, it’ll hatch out a Dialga-equivalent for the new one. Not that’s any way for him to test that, of course. Currently. 

Still talking. He shifts from foot to foot, still watching. Waiting. 

She, of course, has moved herself and the man she speaks to onto the astral plane. That’s easy enough to sense, the energy in the air. Makes it even more impossible to eavesdrop, though. Ugh. 

He hisses to himself. She’ll have to return eventually. Give the man his body back. 

And she does, floating the body back before it refills with life. 

Giving...

“ What.”

The stone. She gives the Time Stone to the green man. 

Just like that, she fades away. Leaving the green man with the Time tone she refused to let Volo breathe on, let alone handle. 

(What does he have that Volo lacks-? Always the same.)

Volo bites his lower lip until he draws blood. He watches the green man take his leave. Tempting to follow after, but...too risky. He’ll wait. 

The entire exchange, though, is...

Curious. 

The world shivers. 

An echo, a reminder. It is energy that Volo has felt before. 

The energy of the world tearing apart and reforming about what has suddenly appeared there. 

One minute, nothing but filthy roof space. The next, a man stands there with a box in a metal and glass container. A man dressed in green and black leathery armor, very different from anyone of this so-called modern age. 

(Everything is modern in the moment. Nothing is forever.)

Volo eyes him carefully. The man glares at him back. 

Some sort of metal gag locked around the man’s mouth glows slightly yellow. Active in whatever it must be preventing, other than speech, of course. 

Hm, that looks painful. Painful enough to accept Volo’s help, at a price, perhaps. 

“I could take that off of you, if you’d like,” Volo offers. Beckons. 

The man narrows very green eyes at him. Untrusting, as is only correct in this situation. 

“I will take answers in exchange.”

The man considers, eyes darting about, before he eventually nods in reluctant agreement. Or perhaps not so reluctant? It’s clear that there’s some kind of Space energy to the box he grips between his hands. 

Most likely plotting to Teleport away as soon as Volo frees him, paying no price. Joke’s on him, Volo is quite prepared for that. 

Removing the gag is simple enough. Whatever energy powering it dies down at Volo’s cursed touch, and he can take it off with one hand. Using his other to clamp down on the man’s wrist. A grip said man can’t manage to break, no matter how he pulls. 

If he Teleports, he’ll end up taking Volo with him, and they both know it. 

“You will let your god go!” The man hisses at him. Struggling. 

Volo raises my eyebrow. “My god? Oh no, you’re not my god.”

(His god cursed him and left him here to rot. Until he learned his lesson. )

“Now, I have a few questions you agreed to answer. Shall we?”

He pulls the man over to the side of the building, near the roof, ignoring the increase in desperate struggles. Tugs him into a sitting position. 

At that point, there is no more fighting back. Volo frowns in consideration. Did he learn that he can’t escape? Probably, but also...

The man eyes the street below. Not long, but long enough to provide another reason for him fighting so desperately. 

Ha. 

“I’m not going to push you off the roof , I won’t get answers that way, right?”

Volo smiles. Shows all of his teeth, tapping at his dress pant-covered thigh with his free hand. Keeping his grasp tight around the man’s wrist still. Not letting go any time soon. 

“Bad for business. Even I know that.”

“ Who are you.” A demand. Not a question. 

Volo ignores it. “That’s my question for you. What’s your name, strange god?”

Because the man certainly does have the energy of one, despite his lacking form at the moment. Power that’s akin to Giratina, crackling and chaotic and full of shadows. Maybe he’s simply trapped in a human shape, like Volo is?

Matters little currently. 

“Loki,” the man-god proclaims proudly. “Loki, god of lies.”

Hm, isn’t that curious. 

“And that?” Volo nods to the blue box, which certainly does not belong to this Loki if Space is not his domain. 

Loki curls up tighter about his box. Certainly afraid Volo will steal said box. Which he would, in a second, if it would do him any good. 

Time to lay out some bait. Let this little godling know exactly how much Volo knows (has inferred) about the situation. 

“The ability to travel wherever you want means nothing without a destination,” he remarks casually. Smoothing out the wrinkles in his pants. 

He doesn’t need to see Loki’s face to know the horror at his weakness being laid bare before someone so human. Ha. 

Because the gag, now lying off to the side on the concrete ground, makes it clear that the godling has enemies. Enemies that will be very keen to recapture him. Enemies that will root out of all of this ‘god of lies’ little hidey holes. 

“I could give you that destination. If you wanted.”

“What would you get out of it?” 

Let him see just a fragment of Volo’s pain. So he can stab the godling when he moves to stab him in the back with said pain. All metaphorically, of course!

In this case, at least. 

Volo smiles. A smile he’s given many many customers over the years. 

“You see, I myself have been...misplaced.” He nods to the blue Space box. “That item of yours reeks of Space. Transportation. Doesn’t it?”

Loki tightens his grip on the box. “You have no way to use it. No knowledge on how to.”

Yes, yes, that’s why Volo hasn’t taken it yet. He’s not fool enough to start playing with a Teleporter that has no legends for him to extrapolate from. 

“Which is why I would like you to use it for me.”

“...where do you want to go?” Green eyes sharp, he’s found the weakness that Volo holds. How much Volo longs to return. 

Everything screams to say, Hisui, Hisui. 

Everything is wrong. 

Sending a godling there would only result in disaster. He will not do that to Hisui. 

But...he taps at his leg once more. He has another option, doesn’t he? Another time and place that his companion has complained about, missed. 

Volo slides his hand into a pocket. Fingers closing around the fragment of a seed in there. Hilda had called it a Gracidea, the flower it had once belonged to. 

(Volo gave her a piece of Hisui. Hilda gave him a piece of Unova, in return.)

He offers the seed to Loki. 

The godling looks it over disdainfully. Does not move to take the seed. 

“What is that for?”

“A place to move to. You see, this seed came from a place very far from here.” Volo smiles once more. Hiding his teeth. “Somewhere your pursuers wouldn’t suspect you to flee to, hm?”

Loki flinches. Barely, mostly hidden, but a liar knows a liar. He sees. 

“Use it and your space energies left behind will be enough for my purposes. A deal that works for both of us, don’t you agree?”

Loki is not a fool, Volo will give him that. He is young, though. Young and lacking options. He will take this one, if only because he does not want to return to whomever gagged and bound him in the first place. Persons with power, to bind a godling thus. 

Time is running out for him. 

His fingers feel for the seed. Ice cold to touch, as brief as that touch is. Volo lets him take it, releases the wrist he still holds. 

Loki doesn’t thank him. He only twists at the handles of the container, allowing the blue flash of Space to swallow him up. 

Tearing a hole through reality in the process. Crackling and bubbling blue. Already fragmenting Space and Time of New York and Unova. 

Perfect. 

He smiles, something far too real and hungry to hide away. 

Someone will notice, will notice, on the other side. 

His god will seek to seal this anomaly shut. Like before. There will be another Champion sent. To open the gap, to tend to the holes the careless godling would tear through reality like Volo did with Giratina so long ago.  

(And maybe, just maybe, through that gap, he could finally go home. )

Chapter Text

Laying across the couch, Clint Barton wonders if he could keep just one of the little Electric Pokemon. Just one Joltik, for his kids. They’d love it. Laura, not so much, but he’s certain he could convince her. 

Especially if the little spider eats pests like flies along electrical stuff. That’d be a real help around the house, and most definitely the most helpful in the summer when the fricking flies get everywhere. 

Clint shudders at the thought. Man, he hates those flies. Outside? Fine. Inside? Too close for comfort and trying to fly into his face. 

Flies that aren’t around in Stark’s tower, probably due to the spiders and not anything high-tech Tony’s come up with. Because even Tony can’t stop the summer flies forever. 

Everyone’s busy with something. 

Except Clint. He’s fine with that. Needs to take a break anyway. Even though Stark’s couch sucks. 

“There’s a...guest downstairs that would like to see ‘the Subway Masters,’” Jarvis states. 

Tony scratches at his neck. “And that’s the term they used? Subway Masters?”

“The exact wording, sir,” The AI confirms. And that’s...

Shit. 

Maybe. 

Because who knows to call these visitors by that title? In this world, that is?

Clint sits up more fully, glancing over at said Subway Masters. 

They don’t seem too curious about what Jarvis is saying, more intent on discussing how to move the Joltiks with flapping hands and loud voices. 

Alright then. Clint turns his attention to the elevator. Which is just happening to open as his head turns towards it. 

There’s a young woman walking through the elevator doors, without a care in the world. Her brown hair is up in a ponytail, dark eyes taking everything around her in. Wearing a bright red shirt with a Pokeball design on it. Did Stark’s AI just let in another Pokemon fan? Or a Pokemon world person? 

Clint doesn’t know where to go with this. Not yet. 

“It’s good to see the Subway Masters again! I’m so happy you’re here!” The girl bursts out, hands flapping in clear excitement, alongside her wide grin. 

“I do not recall you,” Emmet says bluntly. 

“Neither of us do. What was your visit like?” Ingo adds in, somehow softening his twin’s words despite being three times louder in the process. 

“Let’s see...” The girl taps at her cheek, seemingly unoffended. “I hit the Battle Subway with my Emboar and Duosion, how ‘bout that? Had a-”

“-brilliant Double Zen Headbutt, of course,” Emmet finishes for her. “I remember you now! A verrry good battler!”

“You got very far on the Battle Subway indeed.” Ingo nods. 

“Heh, I’m glad that the Subway Masters remember little old me.” The girl rubs at the back of head, smiling. “How’d you get here? Can you go back to Unova?”

Hold a sec. 

This girl is from the Pokemon World too? 

“How many of you guys are there?”

The girl shrugs. “Who knows? I’ve only run into Volus, though. Even after the Pokemon cartoons got released. So probably not anyone else?”

Right. Clint makes a mental note to keep an eye out for anyone who might be too familiar with the spiders running around in the tower. Just because they didn’t respond to the clear message the girl and Volus seemed to have teamed up to send doesn’t mean other Pokemon people aren’t out there. 

What a weird thought. Sheesh, his kids are gonna be grilling him for ages over this. S.H.I.E.L.D. will too but that seems far less terrifying in comparison. 

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself.” The girl bobs her head, and waves. In Clint’s direction, and then towards the rest of the Avengers. “I’m Hilda White, pleased to meet you!”

Okay, that’s a super normal name. More normal than Ingo and Emmet, and with a last name too. 

“Uh, nice to meet you too?”

Hilda nods once final time before returning the majority of her attention to the twins. 

“How are we going to head back home?”

“Wait, you’re one of the creators of the Pokemon cartoon here, Miss Hilda White,” Tony interrupts, flicking about holographic images of the woman and probably everything about her history and social media here on Earth. Probably includes what cereal she eats in the mornings, if he knows nosy rich tech guys. “You’re pretty well off. Why leave that all behind?”

She looks at the billionaire seriously. 

“Money doesn’t mean anything if you’re alone.”

Clint swallows. Yeah. That’s...pretty much what he told his brother, didn’t he? Yeah, don’t think about that. Think about the now, with Hilda White insistent on going home for good. A point in her favor, he’s pretty sure Fury would say. 

Nat makes the call. One that Clint 100% agrees with and will agree with, for the reports after. 

“Let’s get this figured out for the three of you, how you can get home.”

Miz Elesa is taking Rogue back, isn’t she?

Why else would she make such a big deal of being around all the other people from the subway, the people from Rogue’s world?

Gathering them around, asking them to follow her to the subway, along with Rogue...

She’s been brightly assuring them all that the subway will get them back home, don’t they worry, she only has a few people to talk to first. 

And she has to be right! Rogue’s never seen so much assuredness in a human before, not even with the bomb stuff and the crazy blackmailers from earlier. 

Her time’s running out. Rogue’s, not Miz Elesa’s. 

Rogue has to ask. Now or never. 

“Are you going to take Nugget and the other Pokemon back now?” 

Nugget growls at the question. Digging her claws into Rogue’s shoe. Rogue can’t look down, can’t fall prey to that. Has to meet Miz Elesa’s eyes as she turns back to look at her. 

“What do you mean by that?”

That’s...Rogue bites her lip. Tugs at her gloves. 

“It’d be dangerous for them in my home world.”

For how they treat human mutants, they’d probably treat animal ones like Pokemon even worse. Rogue can’t let that happen to them. 

An inhale of breath from Miz Elesa. Then she speaks. 

“Rogue.” Miz Elesa’s eyes are serious, meeting Rogue’s own. She holds out her hands, an unspoken offer to let Rogue touch her. Something that no one’s ever done for her before, after they’ve found out her mutation. Even when she’s wearing gloves. 

“Do you want to go back? Do you have somewhere to return to?”

Rogue can feel her eyes burning. She blinks hard, trying to force what’s coming back. 

“I...”

She should, she should. It’s the world she came from, her family is there and everything she’s ever known is there. 

There’s parts of that world she misses, even now, as an ache in her chest. 

Again, her family is there. 

She wraps one hand around Miz Elesa’s palm. Even through the glove, the touch is warm. Is it supposed to be that warm, touching people?

Her cheeks feel wet. Soggy. Nugget chirps at her feet. The other Pokemon murmurs too, touching a claw against her shirt.

“Are you alright, Rogue?” Miz Elesa’s eyes are bright. Filled with concern. 

Oh, she’s crying. She couldn’t stop the tears.

“Miz Elesa,” she chokes out, “I know it’s wrong but- I want to stay here with you!”  

Where people like Misters Ingo and Emmet and Lady Colette are, strange and helpful and kind. Where there’s little creatures like Nugget who want to be friends with her. 

(Where no one seems to care she’s a mutant. )

“Oh- don’t cry! It’s alright if you want to stay! I’ll just- let all of the others know!”

Miz Elesa makes a movement like she’s about to walk away, only to realize that Rogue is still holding her hand. Instead of pulling free, she waits. 

And Rogue lets her go. Lets Miz Elesa in her bright model clothing walk off, steady in the assurance that the woman would come back. Wouldn’t leave her alone. 

Even if she did, there’s Nugget looking up at her with worried eyes. 

“I’m alright, really.”

Worry that goes away as the little furry creature is assured of that truth. Along with the other Pokemon that...Rogue looks over the red and black creature and it looks at her back. Steady and waiting. 

Nugget has a name...what about the other Pokemon? Rogue tugs at a strand of hair thoughtfully. 

“Do you want a name?”

She gets a nod for an answer.

Rogue hums, thinking. The armor, the blades, they make her think of...

“I’ll call you Knight,” she decides. 

The little creature chirps in apparent acceptance of the name. 

Carefully, Rogue rests the flat of her gloved hand against the bladed limb offered to her. Nugget yowls and yanks at her other arm. Demanding attention. 

Rogue can’t help but smile. “Jealous.”

Knight and Nugget and Rogue. Up against this new world. Her new home. 

She can’t wait. 

Volo makes it back to those he’s supposed to be advising. Eventually. 

After spending time with Astraea, burying his face into soft feathers he hasn’t felt in so very long, fingers gently stroking their wings. 

A time that ends far too soon for his tastes. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have your Pokeball on me to carry you where I’m going.”

His Togekiss coos their forgiveness, offering to take flight to his destination. Perhaps even carry him there? 

Regretfully, Volo shakes his head to turn down the offer. “Too noticeable.”

He’d like nothing more. But he has a role to play. Assistance to offer. All in the name of getting back to his actual home, of course, where he and Astraea can take to the sky as many times as they like. 

Like the Togekiss does now, fluttering higher and higher to hide themself among these skyscrapers. White gleaming so gleam against this filthy world. 

The world needs to break a little more, a little further along the line, for him to make it back to Hisui. A process currently beyond him, lacking both the allyship of Giratina and the cube that godling carried along. 

Time is on his side, though. For the world tends more towards falling apart than staying together. That’s how it has always been, from now until the end. 

Speaking of-

The world trembles. Shivers and shifts. 

A breaking of the world glass. 

(Within, his other nature of despair stirs. Kiku-Seta awaits.)

Flickers. Movement. People. Slowly, Volo turns his head to see what comes through the broken veil. A veil that seals itself up behind the newcomers. Red newcomers. 

Ah, he recognizes that shade of red. Those hooded (and horned) outfits the people are wearing, from the videos that led him to lending his expertise to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the first place. 

Team Magma, a group of thieves and terrorists from his side, from that future that thankfully isn’t of Hisui’s. 

Crowding the middle of sidewalk, somehow impossibly managing to get every New Yorker to avoid them instead of said New Yorkers barging right through. They must really give off an air of threat to do that. 

“What’d we do now?” 

“Where’s the Pokemon?”

“This is some weird shit!”

Hm.

Seems the thieves have finally made their way to the surface. And have no idea what to do next, in this Pokemon-less world. 

He could call Astraea back, there’s very few Pokemon that can muster up against a very angry and healthy Togekiss. But. There’s another plan Volo can put into play instead here. 

Well. This works out just fine, doesn’t it? Right in his favor. 

He smiles. Raises his hands in surrender. 

“Oh no, you got me.”

The figures in red mumble to each other, confused by his immediate response. 

“Uh, we do? Yeah, we do!”

“Got me to trap the Subway Masters,” Volo continues, “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

That lights up the thieves quite a bit, eagerly coming forward to grab at him. 

“Bait!” “Yeah, we gotta take down that subway for good.” “Stop ‘em from ruining the earth!”

Volo isn’t quite back to his advising like he said he would be, as the red thieves rush him away. 

But what’s a few lies, in the line of the greater good? 

Natasha Romanova has a plan. A plan for the greater good of the world, of two worlds, even, at this point. 

Step one of this plan: allow the Subway Masters to continue what they’re doing, in getting the electric spiders out of Stark’s tower. 

Another step, getting the assistance of those same Subway Masters to help against []. Something that she’s certain they would be more than happy to help with, in their far too open kindness and apparent skill in handling Pokemon. 

Then, get them home alongside their criminals. Leaving Earth alone. 

Hilda White is merely another variable. Not too difficult to get the measure of her, completely and totally. Clint’s talking to her right now as well, and he’ll let Natasha know anything she’s missed. 

Three people from another world, handled easily. 

The fourth, Volus. however...

Something is off about Volus. Even more so than the rest of the humans from the Pokemon world. 

Lacking information on the norms of that world makes it hard to put a finger on exactly what is wrong, leaving her to only rely on her gut. Instinct that has saved her so many times in the past. 

She gives into the urge to roll her strained shoulders. She needs more data, data that she missed out on when separated from the Avengers in that subway disaster. Natasha may have gained more information on the Conductor, on Emmet, in exchange. But Emmet’s remarkably straightforward in his (and his twin’s) confusing otherworldly fashion. Volus knows how to blend, to lie like someone of Earth. And that...that may be a problem. 

There’s something missing here, itching at her. She needs the answer to a question: why volunteer to help S.H.I.E.L.D.? If he wanted to go back home, he could have simply gone back with the Subway Masters after they were revealed to Earth. Maybe Volus doesn’t trust the twins, Natasha wouldn’t have, but S.H.I.E.L.D. in comparison is far more untrustworthy to a lost dimensional traveler as a government agency that recently fought back another dimensional invasion.

What is the play? What is it that Emmet and Ingo cannot provide Volus?

Speaking of a certain blunt individual-

A figure in a bright white coat settles on a chair next to hers, at the table. Cutting into her thoughts with a completely unexpected question. 

“Do you want a Joltik?”

Surprised and willing to show it to him, she looks over at him. “Why are you asking me that? Wouldn’t it be dangerous for a Pokemon to stay here on Earth?”

Definitely an invasive species, would be an extreme pain for S.H.I.E.L.D. to handle in the case of an outbreak. They’re certainly lucky that the Pokemon so far have shown little interest in leaving behind such a large source of food. 

“You did not answer my question. Do you want a Joltik?”

Natasha purses her lips together in an exaggerated fashion. Showing off that she’s thinking, to the man in white next to her.  

“I would need to know more before I could make that decision.”

There’s just something about Emmet that pulls the honesty out of her. 

Mostly, Natasha has to be honest with herself as well, it’s because he really doesn’t catch onto any of the implications she leaves in the air between her and her targets. He doesn’t know anything about her unless she tells him but he also will not stand for her to lead him on. 

It’s...nice. In a way. Freeing like it was befriending Clint, allowing him to know more and more about the horrible things she had done and for him...well, he cared. He cared too much, but he cared about her, the doer of such terrible actions as well as those victims. 

“What would you like to know?” Emmet’s gray eyes don’t meet her own eyes, never will, pointed off to the side of her face instead. Not demanding her attention, her obedience. 

“My brother is an excellent source of information on Joltik,” his twin chimes in, straightening his cap. “He has bred many of them and has assisted the safe removal  of many wild Joltik from substandard habits.”

“Like now?” Clint asks, gesturing to the surrounding tower.

Ingo nods in agreement. “Like now, yes.”

“This is not even the most difficult removal to plan,” Emmet states, waving a dismissing hand. “It is verrry hard to remove Joltik from flooded tunnels. Verrry dangerous.”

Electric insects in water, yes, she can see how that would be dangerous.

Now, to answer Emmet’s question about an electric spider of her own...

“I wouldn’t want to hurt a Joltik,” she admits. Quietly, so only the man next to her can hear her weakness. The loud noise of his twin helps a lot in that way. “With you and your brother going home, I wouldn’t be able to ask for help if anything went wrong.”

A humming noise. Almost whistling, like a train might. Emmet taps at his nose. 

“Verrry valid concern, I agree. Dangerous to be without protocols and support.”

His gloved fingers steeple together as he taps his foot. “I can leave information to assist for raising healthy Joltik and Galvantula.”

Wait, the bigger spider that Emmet has as well? The one he’s using to talk to the Joltik. 

“Galvantula?”

“Oh yes, Joltik become Galvantula. That is another important aspect of whether you would want one or not, because you must take care of a Galvantula later.” 

That is vital to know, yes. Natasha can’t be upset about that, because it’s quite clear the man would tell her everything about these electric spiders if she sat here long enough. 

Including the part about a tiny spider growing into a much larger version of a tarantula. 

There are a hundred reasons to say no to the offer of a Pokemon. Many of them having to do with her work as a spy. As the spy, as Stark would say. 

But. 

Some ridiculous part of her, a childish part Natasha thought long erased, wants. 

What should she do?

“Hey, Volus said he was going to meet me here. Where is he?” Miss White asks, hands on her hips. A young woman that is used to taking up space, of people listening to her.

Fairly unique in the animation industry. It must be a result of her otherworldly background. 

Yes, the strangeness of Volus again. Natasha gratefully takes the distraction, necessary it may be in the moment. 

“Perhaps he missed his train?” Emmet suggests. 

Ingo shakes his head. “Someone delayed his train.” He points to the muted TV. Everyone looks. Watches. 

Wait, that announcement currently scrolling across the screen, the news that Stark always keeps going...she sits up. They pay attention, they all do. 

Volus. Surrounded by some particularly dressed individuals. Individuals that are apparently threatening him for “Subway Masters” according to the newscaster. 

“He’s been captured. By the same people who captured Emmet,” Ingo says, eyes narrowing. His hands reach for the Pokeballs at his belt, like a weapon. 

Captain Rogers’ response to that revelation is almost too predictable. As is everyone’s response to him in turn. 

“Avengers Assemble!”

“But we are not-”

“And Subway Masters and...Hilda?”

“Yep, Hilda works just fine for me! But man, I feel left out without a cool name here...maybe Ace Trainer Hilda? Oh, I know! Champion Hilda! I’m still Champion, right?”

“Actually, Miss Iris has taken your place in your absence. You will have to challenge her for the position.”

“Darn. Battle a ton when I get back it is!”

“Can we...get back to saving Volus?”

“Oh yeah, sure! Let’s go for it!”

Chapter Text

To be perfectly honest with herself, Elesa didn’t really come to the subways for the group of otherworlders trooping behind her like Duckletts. 

That’s mostly a side benefit, an assurance from Nimbasa City’s one and only Gym Leader, that her people aren’t aiming to imprison them for being from a different world. But it’s an excuse for her to check the subways herself for the missing Subway Masters. 

Not making Rogue afraid that Elesa was going to get rid of her, no, never!

She tugs at her hair, thinking everything through as she marches her way to the main station. Duckletts still behind her, of course, can’t leave them yet!

There’s simply too much to do. 

Get the otherworlders home, push out Team Plasma of the subways, get the twins back home since they haven’t called back in a while, make sure those wild Pokemon don’t hurt people before returning to wherever they come from, talk to the other Gym Leaders about what to do about Rogue’s situation...

She lets a sigh escape her, heels clicking against the floor. 

What a mess! Sticky and gloomy and-

“A Goomy of space and time,” she muses. 

Speaking of past space-time messes...

Talking to Ingo about Hisui...is interesting. Emmet isn’t a huge fan of any reminder of the time they spent separated, but Ingo insists on not shoving that history away. So it’s mostly her and Ingo that talk about Hisui while Emmet pouts somewhere else. 

One thing he mentioned, talk a lot about, is what he calls distortions. Bubbles of time and space where Pokemon from the past and future would randomly come through to attack whatever was in the way. 

Even worse, Ingo revealed later on in his usual dry fashion, those distortions were apparently symptoms of space-time in Hisui falling apart. 

The world itself in threat of collapse...Elesa has to physically shiver at the thought. 

So why isn’t Unova in the process of collapsing? What’s different about this situation from Ingo’s experience in Old Sinnoh?

“I’m not sure we’ll ever get the answers about that,” Elesa sighs. 

All she can do is hope that they can find a way to stop this even without that information. Because she is not losing her twins to another dimension!

When a Space from another selection of worlds appears, it knows instantly. Why wouldn’t it, having that same power itself?

Deep within the dimensional folds of reality, Palkia stirs. 

It rears its head back, mouth opening in what it calls a gentle roar and others might call a yawn. 

Then the Pokemon of Space takes a proper look at the interloper in its domain. 

The Space takes the form of a tesseract, cube spirling within cubes over and over. Displacing some of Palkia’s territory in the process, shifting the world of Pokemon in its very existence. A challenge. 

One the Dragon will not stand from anyone, let alone another Space. 

It will show this Space who rules here. 

Simple enough. 

Palkia reaches out, arm glowing with a basic Spacial Rend. 

The Space fights back. If it were in its origin dimension, it might have been even successful. 

But where Palkia reigns, it is nothing. 

Simple enough to squash this Space’s rebellious sparks that shred through the spaces between. Redirecting that energy to a more solid wormhole between the dimensions of Pokemon and this Space’s is simply another day for Palkia, if it was mundane enough to measure its existence in ‘days.’ 

Any errors in the world that this Space invaded briefly, damages in its reality from this sudden incursion, they will be repaired. Before said damages are even made in many cases. 

The Renegade One, Reality, will (and has) handle that duty. As it is meant to do. Before Dialga or even the Creator need to get involved. 

Now, as for the other realm? What reality damage may be there?

Palkia gently roars once more, curling up. 

Why would it care anything about that? 

It’s not the Space of that dimension after all. 

“Do you not want to go out with your friends?” Hilda asks Dr. Banner, watching him type away at a laptop. 

The man looks up briefly in her direction, over by the couch. 

“They can handle this situation better without me.” 

“And they need a babysitter for me, right?” she checks. 

An apologetic smile is all she needs to confirm. 

Uuuh, what a pain. Hilda puffs out her cheeks, fighting the urge to kick her feet back and forth from her chair. Also fighting the urge to lean said chair back, don’t want to break someone else’s chair. 

Dr. Banner’s nice, but quiet. Not the type to take well to her chatting him up. What should she do instead? Try one of the books off to the side?

A shiver. Reality trembles. 

Hilda stands up. She knows this feeling all too well. 

“What’s wrong?”

The world itself goes wrong before she can answer the man’s concern. 

The air through the wall window warps. Splits open. 

Something very very blue forces its way through that split. Gyarados!

One that is...bigger than normal. Also, glowing red eyes. Bad. 

“I didn’t know Gyarados could get that big!” Or fly. Flying might be more important here. 

She glances over at her companion, whose breathing has grown heavier. 

At first Hilda thinks the greenish tinge to Dr. Banner’s skin is him getting worry sickness. But then she realizes, no, he’s actually turning a bright green. Growing in size. Shape-changing like a Darmanitan, from a smaller Zen form to something much more Attack prone.   

Oh dragons. 

She follows her Trainer honed instincts and dives for cover behind the couch. Barely managing it in time. 

SMASH! 

“ROAAAAAAAR!”

Thousands of glass shards sweep through the air as the Gyarados forces its head inside. Roaring. 

The green Dr. Banner roars back. “RRRRRRROOOOOOOAAAR!”

Hilda just escapes being shredded to bloody strips by that glass due to the couch taking the hit for her. But the couch won’t take another blow, leaning heavily as it is to one side. Without any Pokeballs at her waist...she needs to get out of here. 

Thankfully her risk of immediate death has gone down with Green Banner having jumped through the broken window wall to punch at the oversized Gyarados. Still risky, with how she can see that Gyarados’ body flailing, but all life has risk. 

Hilda army-crawls across the floor, feeling glass prick at her elbows. Carefully. Don’t cut herself open now. 

Luckily, there are a lot of Pokemon nearby that she can ask for backup from. Hopefully.

They’re certainly Electric enough to provide just the help she needs for a Gyarados rage attack. Now, where were the Subway Masters hanging out the most...?

That vent, with all of the exposed wiring! Perfect!

She wiggles her fingers near the vents. Tapping close to, but not on, the wires running through the very tall tower. 

“C’mon, c’mon, please, I need your help,” she whispers into those same vents. “I know you can hear me, please.”

Her ears catch the pitter patter of many many tiny feet coming towards her. 

Hilda smiles , all teeth. 

It’s truly unfortunate, Ingo reflects, that their attempt to rescue Volus has been side-tracked onto another rail entirely. 

By a sudden Hisui distortion, no less. Full of upset Water types raining down on their heads and actual river water alongside them. Thankfully, Hisui river water lacks the chemicals and pollutants of its more modern equivalent. Making for larger Water types which...

Ingo’s frown deepens. Observes how the Alpha Floatzel tosses Mr. Stark off to the side, despite his armor and the water making it slick. Difficult for Captain Rogers and the agents to keep on their feet as the many Goldeen move in to attack them.  

Might not be the best in this situation.    

He and his twin move as one, each releasing a Pokemon to fight these sudden fare evaders back. 

Durant and Excadrill.

“X-Scissor!” Durant hisses, mandibles snapping. 

“Aerial Ace!” Excadrill grunts, drills rising up. 

Focused attacks, nothing that will accidentally hurt their new human teammates in the crossfire. Yet still strong enough to drive these wild Pokemon back, for there are few Pokemon in the wild that muster enough power to overcome any Pokemon of the Subway Masters. Knocking out the Goldeen easily, alongside Agent Romanova’s strange Electric attacks (he’ll have to ask Emmet about that) and Captain Roger’s round shield that somehow bounces. Also, arrows? Strange kinds of arrows, Ingo has no idea what their role is in this fight. 

Once the entire pack of Water Types is taken out...they fade away. The distortion of the world closing up like it did in Hisui with its angry Pokemon calmed. Water and Pokemon disappear together, leaving only wet spots and tired out humans. 

Emmet recalls Durant with a clicking snap. Ingo does the same with Excadrill. Then he glances about, as Emmet sweeps over to check on the man with a bow. Glancing over and noticing, for the first time, that Mr. Stark is down. 

Explaining why he wasn’t using his Hyperbeams in the fight, of course. But Ingo wasn’t expecting him to just....be lying there. Eyelights dark, apparently unable to move. 

The man reminds him of a Shelmet on its back. Unable to get up in its heavy armor.

Ingo walks towards him. 

As irritating as Mr. Stark may be, his high energy reminds of Elesa. His spark, as she would joke. Besides, that’s no excuse to not do his job. Emmett would do the same, faced with this situation. 

Ingo carefully checks the armor, apparently powerless. Or Paralyzed, that’s another option. He could take out Klingklang or another Pokemon to use an Electric attack, but he wants to see if there’s another option first. Thankfully, as he moves his hands along the armor seams, it appears to wake the armor up. Eyes start glowing in the golden face and the rest of the core lights up. 

He offers a gloved hand to help the armored man up. 

“I thought you guys didn’t like me,” Mr. Stark’s voice sounds weak, even under the mechanical tone of his armor as his eyelights flicker back. 

Ingo feels his frown deepening, though the act will be unnoticeable to the man currently speaking to him. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” He shakes his head, barely. “A conductor always keeps to their duty, despite their relations to the other passengers.”

The man is quiet in response. Like there’s something strange to Ingo’s answer. 

Now, why would that be strange?

Tony really needs to get making different Iron Man suits to use for different situations. 

Because the current Mark VII? Not working! 

“One size fits all isn’t a thing here,” he remarks, as he flies through the air. Flung by some particularly large weasel-looking monster. One with inner-tubes? “Jarvis? Make a note. Also identify the orange ferret man for me.”

“It’s a Floatzel” Jarvis answers pretty quickly. Probably already on the job, good ol’ Jarvis. 

Information that...actually doesn’t do much to help him right now. Hm.

Because that same ‘Floatzel’ uses another strange attack that shorts out his suit. 

Completely and totally. Leaving Tony in almost darkness. Because he can still see, he made corrections after the Battle of New York to allow for that kind of power outage, but he can’t move. Can’t talk to Jarvis, can’t scan. 

Completely and totally trapped in his position.  

His breathing quickens. Bad. Limited capacity, remember? 

“C’mon, don’t freak out. Someone will get you. Rogers will, he’s that kind of guy. Or Natalie, she’s a freaking spy. Hell, even Hawkeye, he’s got the name for it.”

But it’s none of the above who comes over. 

Instead it’s the twin in black, the Warden. Ingo. 

Tapping at his armor until the power reboots, and even offering a hand to pick him back up. 

He opens his mouth, behind his mask, and what falls out is something he doesn’t intend to say out loud. 

(It almost never is.)

“I thought you guys didn’t like me.”

There’s absolutely no change to that facial expression, to those gray eyes staring him down. 

“What does that have to do with anything? A conductor always keeps to their duty, despite their relations to the other passengers.”

There’s any number of things Tony could say in response to that. He could say something about kicking off annoying passengers. Or about how they’re not on a train. 

Instead, he says...nothing. 

Just lets the man (stronger than he looks) get him back on his armored feet. So he can awkwardly move his way towards the rest of the Avengers. And Emmet, Tony supposes. 

None of the Avengers say anything about his failure, but Tony would feel better if they said. He’s definitely making new blueprints in his head, making plans to maybe question more about Pokemon so he can make a good suit against ‘em. 

Maybe he should talk to Hilda, she might be more friendly on that...but it seems the twins might help too. Just because it would help, even if it would help him, and that’s...Tony shakes his head. 

That’s...who does that? Who just helps a guy like him, who annoyed the heck out of them, and thinks nothing of it because it’s a job? 

Yeah. Tony needs some private time to think about that. After they get the Volus guy back.

Getting to where Volus was taken goes much more smoothly with no more monster attacks on the way.

Only to find a different kind of disaster waiting for them. 

Petals and leaves and thorns and other...plant bits, whatever they’re called, cover the area. And the still human bodies in that area- 

“Still breathing, sir.”

Good. 

“Grass Types,” Emmet suggests immediately. “Another breach.”

Fuck. That’s the opposite of good. Tony’s already dealt with one portal alien invasion, he doesn’t need another!

(Breathe, breathe. There’s no portal here. No need to panic.)

Ingo kneels down, tracing along a deep furrow in the concrete. “They attempted to defend themselves.”

“But didn’t work out,” Capsicle finishes, taking in the battle scene with his own keen eyes. 

Yeah, yeah, that’s pretty clear it didn’t work out from all of the unconscious bodies. 

More importantly, in this pile of thorns and red thugs, there’s someone missing. 

“Where’d our advisor guy go?”

This Team Magma is even less competent than Volo assumed they were, and he’s the one who convinced them to take him captive in the first place. Perhaps he should have simply called for Astraea, before going through this. 

Holding back a sigh, he watches them argue about their next incompetent course of action. Something he doesn’t have to go through for much longer, considering what happens next. 

A pop in the air. The spice of time and space twisting. Another rip.

“RRRR-BBBBBRRRR!” The sound of an angry Pokemon.

Volo stiffens. The Team Magma members’ hands go to their Pokeballs, ready to respond. But respond far too late to the threat. 

All knocked out in an instance of furious petals and brambles. 

Taken down by a single Roserade, standing in its green and white glory at the edge of the disaster it’s created. 

Volo swallows. 

That Roserade, it’s his Roserade. It’s-

“Atropa?”

“Triiii!” Atropa trills back, bobbing in a curtsy. Also, offering him a Pokeball that he gladly accepts as it must be Atropa’s own.

Another one of his dearest companions returned! He reaches out to rub at Atropa’s head, looking about his surroundings as he does so. At the knocked out thugs and brambles tight about them. 

Not quite what he wanted, the opposite really, but Volo is proud of his Roserade. So very strong and protective. Nevermind the setback, he can figure this out.

If he has Atropa scatter more attacks about the area, yes, perfect, he can fake a wild pokemon attack. One from Hisui, to go along with the recent rifts. 

“Atropa, Spikes.” He smiles, careful to keep his teeth tucked away. “Make a disaster of this place. ”

Atropa’s spines slide in and out in agreement, as the Roserade spreads thorns everywhere. Screaming wild Pokemon attack for anyone that passes by. 

“An interesting course of action for you to take.”

Volo whirls around, Atropa raising his fists in warning. At the human standing there. Watching them from behind a black mask and long white hair, dressed in clothing of black and gray. More modern, not of Hisui. 

Make the first move. Take it. 

“Who are you, might I ask?” 

The person prowls closer.

“I am a Shadow.”

A Shadow, hmm? Volo needs to know more. 

“What do you wish for? What do you want from me?” he asks, curious.  

The Shadow steels their shoulders. Straightens up in some pride. 

“In the name of Lord Ghetsis, we shall take this world.”

To conquer this world...

Volo can’t help but laugh. “How ridiculous! This world would only be worthwhile to take after being reshaped entirely!”

Since this world lacks Arceus’s touch, an impossible endeavor. Especially that group calling itself ‘Hydra’ running around. Worse than useless, how much would be destroyed by this moron’s wish? Destroyed without a hope of recreation. 

This so-called Shadow scowls at him from under their mask. “You will not mock our Master’s vision!”

They throw out a Pokemon, between Volo and his exit.

An Absol. Oh, that will be the opposite of a problem for him. Ah, a Pokemon Battle it will be. He rolls the Pokeball over in his hand. Atropa shifts and whispers next to him, hyping up for the fight his Grass Type can sense coming in the air. 

“I suppose I’ll clean up my mess myself. Face me!”

Nicholas Fury paces back and forth in his office. 

Thinking. Considering. Plotting, as some might accuse him of. 

Beyond the sudden portals and the troubles they’re causing, there is another issue that he currently faces as the head of S.H.I.E.L.D: the Council itself. Or what the Council wants. 

Power, of course, but this time it’s power in a more physical form. Power in the form of the little monsters popping in from another dimension. 

There isn’t much of a better showcase for that potential power, than the Warden holding off the entire S.T.R.I.K.E. with his monsters. One man against trained Black Ops agents, winning because of the elemental creatures he ordered around. 

Even Pierce is pushing for grabbing a pocket monster or two. For the good of the world.  

A chill runs up his spine, literally and metaphorically. 

No. One superheroes’ arm race is more than enough for Nick’s tastes. He has to hope that the Avengers seal up the breaches. Get the monsters back where they’re supposed to be, out of reach. 

Stupid as it is to hope, that’s all he’s got going for him at the moment. 

It’s this degree of disaster that the Avengers are meant to come together for in the first place. Along with help from people from the other side...

Help that he might need actually, though Nick hates to admit it. 

He turns to the metaphorical elephant in the room, or a more literal ghost-rock sharing his office for whatever reason. Purple and green and grinning from where its rock base sits on his desk. 

It giggles at him. Giggles. Chills the air with the sound. Enough to scare even Goose away earlier. 

“Now, what the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Chapter Text

Joltik like getting involved. Attached is a better word for that kind of involvement, because Joltik attach themselves to all kinds of Pokemon and not-Pokemon. 

They’re called the Attaching Pokemon for a reason. 

So when the new human asks for help, wiggling fingers in beckoning, this is why the Joltik are more than happy to answer that call. The new human does not even flinch away like most do when faced with a horde of Bugs. Instead they let the Joltik crawl and crawl, using them as a bridge on their way out. 

Towards the shattered glass and world below, they hurry. 

There is a human turned green fighting the Gyarados. A human with-

A Joltik chitters in happy realization at what they’re picking up. The rest soon follow after. 

Oh! More energy! More power!

The human with the strange energy has even more than before, even bigger and greener! Like the Joltik that fed on his energy earlier, ooh. ‘

“Hi hi hi!” They scurry and rush and swarm, a moving ocean of green and yellow. So very small, but a big enough swarm to get the new Big Human’s attention. 

“Hi hi hi!” They once more greet, a mass of electrical insects on the move. 

Big Human thumps his fists into the ground, breaking it up. Strong, Fighting Strong!

Not enough to get the Gyarados to go away, silly Big Human, doesn’t he know that Fighting Types are bad against Flying?

But the humans around here are bad with Pokemon, they had to get a stranger Galvantula to do anything about the swarm. Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise.

“We’ll help!” “Stay still!” “Time to fight fight!”

Move in, Discharge!

The collective Discharge of a few hundred Joltik?

Most Pokemon wouldn’t stand up against that, let alone a Flying-Water Type that’s double weak to it.

The super big Gyarados doesn’t have a chance. 

Not against them and the Big Human, who seems surprised that the Joltik are there but doesn’t chase or bat them away. Good, good Big Human!

The still body of the soon fallen Gyarados...

It goes poof somewhere. Where, the Joltik don’t care. Only having eyes and feelers for the Big Human, still big and green and full of energy. 

Big Human grunts, not quite human speak and not quite Pokemon speak either. Something in between. 

Still. Friend?

“Friend? Friend? Friendly?”

Another grumble from the Big Human. Not a smashing of those fists, allowing the swarm to creep closer. 

Not onto the Big Human, not yet. But close, closer. 

Close enough for the Big Human to reach out with one trembling finger and rest it on the nearest Joltik. 

Who then hums in response. “Good meet, good touch!”

Encouraging the Big Human who seems to understand through the touch, because the Big Human is Electric too! Electric that is different from most Electric, but many Pokemon are different from each other even if they share the two Types. Very very different. 

The rest of the swarm falls in. Clinging to the Big Human wherever they can reach, every Joltik enjoys the rush of green Electric energy that is their reward for holding on. As for the Big Human, he rumbles and lets them come. He pets the Joltik he can reach with a single big finger, and the chosen Joltik jitter with excitement. 

Yes, this human, the swarm decides together, this human...

They want to keep. 

Ingo watches. He has always watched, but his skills on the matter have been... practiced most extensively in his time in Hisui. Skills that come in use now, in this world similar yet so different from their own, from Unova. 

They have split up to better search for the missing Mr. Volus, them and the Avengers. He and Emmet are together, of course, to uncouple would be unthinkable in current circumstances so far from home. 

(They will not be uncoupled by time and space ever again.)

Ingo and Emmet are, then, with the individuals known as Mr. Stark and Agent Romanoff. The agent, his twin has built up an interesting rapport with, discussing the topics of the Joltik present here and similar infestations they have had to deal with on the Nimbasa Subway. 

Which leaves Ingo to the other car of the train present.

He keeps an eye on Mr. Stark up ahead, in his strange armor, as he uses said armor to scan and examine their surroundings. 

It has the possibility of being a rude comparison, but Tony Stark reminds Ingo of Melli. 

Pushy and ignorant in the areas of what truly mattered (like safety protocols and how to interact properly with Emmet) but trying their best nonetheless. Their noisy best. 

Also, very strong feelings about the Electric types they centered their lives around, Electrode in one case and this ‘Jarvis’ in another. 

Melli himself would have been more displeased by the comparison, no doubt. 

Ingo’s stiff lips twitch at the thought. A thought that is fairly bittersweet, as Elesa has called that murky feeling in his chest which follows recalled memories of the Wardens. 

A fair number of comparisons can be made between these Avengers and the Wardens when he sets his mind upon it, actually. Unusual in their own ways but all working together for the best of those who they are meant to protect. The Wardens, the Clans. The Avengers, this city of ‘New York’ apparently. 

But the Avengers do not know how to deal with the distortions. Not anymore than the Clan themselves did. 

There is no Akari, no Rei, here to show them the way. 

Ingo will have to take their place. 

“It is my duty as a Warden myself to assist with the distortions,” Ingo had informed them earlier, arms stiff at his side. Ready to salute, to signal, whatever a train conductor needs to do. 

“We will continue to assist,” Emmet supported as well. Standing by him in agreement, always standing by him. 

It is only proper and part of their duty, when this world needs knowledge to correctly deal with pokemon in the most proper safety procedures. 

Then, and only then, they will return home. Back to the Nimbasa Subway where they truly belong. 

Most individuals expect to be asked about their day. He learned this in Hisui. 

Agent Romanoff and Emmet, as mentioned, are talking. 

That leaves Mr. Stark left out. Ingo quickens his step, until he’s by the man’s side. 

“Mr. Stark, how are you doing on this mission?”

“...um. Fine, I guess?” The man pauses in his scanning. “Look, I know I’m great and everything but you don’t have to talk to me, if you don’t want to.”

Many words, spat out on a runaway track. 

Ingo adjusts his cap. “Would you explain what you mean by that?”

“Uh, just because Miss Spy and your brother are talking doesn’t mean you have to talk to me?” 

Ingo tilts his chin. “But I do not have a sense of obligation in that area. I would like to talk to you, to know more about this area’s railways. Do you know about those?”

“...we just talked about how you don’t like me. You don’t have to talk to me, don’t have to suck up to me.”

The armor’s mask lifts, allowing Mr. Stark’s face to be exposed. 

An attempt at connection, if he understands correctly. That’s usually why other people seek some kind of eye contact, annoying as it is for his brother and himself. 

Oh. Ingo understands. Or he thinks he does. He has quite a lot of experience in people telling him he doesn’t actually ‘get it.’ But this seems straightforward enough. 

“Mr. Stark, I am not ‘sucking up to you’ as you put it,” Ingo informs him, quite firmly, “You are not any worse than any customer I have dealt with in the past. You may push your engine more than the brakes can slow them, at times, but you do attempt to correct your stop speeds. And that is appreciated.”

Especially with the amount of people that Ingo and Emmet (together and separate) have encountered that rather not change anything at all. Melli and the torches in the cave, for example. 

Mr. Stark’s face, what he can see of it, through that lifted faceplate, looks startled. 

“Uh. Thanks? Sorry, yeah, about the nicknames.”

“It is fine. We would only prefer our names in the future, or our titles, if using our names is uncomfortable.”

“Right-o!” The armor mask snaps back closed.  “So you wanted to know about the train systems, yeah, I know some about the wonderful land of New York Subway...”

Ingo nods. Listens. 

There is a pleasant conversation to be had on the local train systems, Mr. Stark not knowing quite as much as Ingo would like but still more than Ingo currently does. 

It is very useful! Very pleasant!

Until they are interrupted. 

His Transceiver buzzes. 

A call. From...Ingo checks the caller ID, always the first step in the process. One must avoid scam callers and reporters without an appointment, of course!

Hilda. That’s the name on the ID. Good enough to answer. 

“Subway Master Ingo speaking.”

The other Faller’s voice echoes over the line in reply. 

“Hey you guys were looking for Volus, right? He just got back.”

What a thing to see happen. 

Hilda stands close to the broken glass wall, carefully peering after the exiting swarm of Joltik. Her hands are on her hips, but loosely, in case she leans out too far and needs to grab something for balance. 

Wasn’t expecting Mr. Banner to suddenly go big and green, but this world has always been a strange one. Just one more experience to add to the pile of stories she’s going to tell her friends when she gets home. 

She thoughtfully taps at her lower lip. Resisting the urge to pull it down. 

Hilda supposes she should take the elevator down. Help Mr. Banner with the new hundred numbered swarm he’s collected for himself. Or that collected him, more like. 

Her eyes track across the room, towards the door of said elevator. 

Looks sturdy. Unbroken, despite the recent raging pokemon attack. Not bad for architecture that was never meant for rampaging elemental beings, Stark does build them well. She’ll give him that!

“Hm, how do I get down there?”

Also, is it okay for her to go down there, next to Green Banner and the Joltik swarm?

She clears her throat, Loudly. 

“Hey, you doing okay there?”

Bug types can be...overbearing at the best of times, and Joltik are definitely some of the most clingy! Best to check!

Green Banner looks over at her, brow furrowing. Like he can’t believe she’s asking. And Hilda guesses she can understand some of the surprise. Without pokemon in this world, most people wouldn’t know what to do with someone like Green Banner. 

Would run away instead of calling out. 

“Yeah, you, are you okay?” She asks again, trying to get yes or no. 

If it’s a no, well, Hilda’s not exactly sure what she’d do about a Joltik swarm, but she’d do her best!

Green Banner grunts. Loudly. 

Hilda squints back, hands on her hips. Calls out, “Is that a yes or no?”

“Hulk okay.”

That’s a deep voice. The yellow mass, what she can see of it, increases vibration in response. Making the Green Banner, or ‘Hulk,’ appear more fuzzy as a result. 

Okayness determined, Hilda goes over to the elevator (since there are no stairs for some reason) to make her way down. 

Thankfully, the Electric type Jarvis running things seems to be okay, even inquiring after her health. 

“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Are you certain about going to talk to Doctor Banner?” Jarvis inquires, “I must warn you, after his transformation he is not often in the most stable of mindsets.”

“He seemed okay when I called out to him, but thanks for the warning.” She does appreciate the mindset that it’s offered in, really. It’s just that...

Hilda frowns. 

The people around here really don’t know how to deal with individuals more powerful than the norm, do they? It’s something she’s noticed in her years living here, but this entire situation with the transformation into Green Banner and Pokemon showing up has emphasized. 

She just asked Hulk if it was alright and he said yes and Jarvis ignored that. Doesn’t communication mean anything around here?

“Well, there is all that mess about mutants building up, I guess...” Another silly thing. So silly to reject others over uncontrollable powers. She shakes her head.

“Good thing I plan on going back with the Subway Masters, sheesh, I don’t want to have to fix the dumb problems around here.”

Making her way through the street to Hulk up front isn’t too bad. Most people have run off by now and the few filming...she doesn’t mind. 

She worked as a Coordinator once, of course she doesn’t mind!

“Hey, um, Hulk, was it?”

Hulk nods. “Hulk.”

“How are you? Was the fight fun?”

Hulk’s brow furrows, before smoothing out. “Fun. Very fun. Yellow bugs help.”

“Yeah, they did help.” She wiggles her hand in greeting towards the Joltik. “Good job, guys! All of you! Thanks for helping out!”

The Joltik buzz back, content. And Hulk smiles too, bashfully judging by the green flush in his cheeks. Aww. 

She has to smile. It’s kind of cute actually, seeing this kind of interaction. Maybe they should leave a Galvantula for Dr. Banner before leaving?

Volus might have a better idea what to do about that than the Subway Masters, he’s lived here longer on Earth than her, after all...

“Pleasant to see you once more.”

Hilda whirls around to face the speaker, walking up towards her. 

Speak of the Void-!

There he is. A certain egg-crazy blond. 

“Where were you?” she blurts out, eyes narrowing. 

Volus holds his hands up in casual surrender, smiling. Like he always does, that smile. 

“Oh, I was just held up.” He nods to the Roserade by his side. “Another one of my old team showed up, we had to say hello to each other.”

A sharp edge to that smile. An emotion that Hilda can’t place, even after knowing him as long as she has.

“You know how it is.”

Yeah. She does. Any good Trainer, anyone with a Pokemon partner, would. 

Her heart aches. Her hand reaches up to rub at it with the heel of her palm. 

Hopefully she’ll run into her own team, soon enough.

(She still doesn’t know what happened to them. Any of them. Or herself, for that matter.)

“So, the Togekiss, the Roserade...anyone else you find?”

He purses his lips. “Hm. Ah yes, my Lucario. Nike.”

“That’s good.”

Maybe if Hilda keeps saying that, she can push away the burn of jealousy in her chest. 

“That’s good,” she repeats. 

“In a manner of speaking.”

What does he mean by that? 

“Where are the Avengers and the...Subway Masters?”

She glares. “Looking for you, actually.”

“I see. Of course they would be.”

“Do you mean by that, you got kidnapped!”

“Not for long.” He smiles. Sharper than the usual expression. 

Too satisfied, too everything has gone according to plan. 

(Too much like Ghetsis.)

There is something wrong with Volus and Hilda is going to find exactly what. 

...After she lets Subway Masters Ingo and Emmet know what’s up, of course. That first. 

The irritating thing, Elesa reflects, is that once she and her employees and the employees of the subway have cleared out the rogue terrorists, there’s not a lot she or anyone else can do. 

For their visitors from another universe, she means. 

They can continue to guide them around, protect them from possible threats, of which these visitors seem to think there are many of. Like so many different pokemon! Like every pokemon, sheesh, how do they make it back home? 

Live in a city with NO non-human life, probably. Team Plasma would LOVE to recruit these other universe visitors. 

Such thoughts are uncharitable, Elesa knows, but she’s feeling uncharitable right now. 

She had plans today!

Anyway, the most she can do for the visitors of another universe is keep a solid eye on them, keep them from wandering off. 

She twists on her heel, surveying the subway station full of only her employees and the visitors, everything else having been marked off to prevent more disappearances. 

With that, she realizes: a certain someone is missing. 

“Rogue? Where did you go?”

Not around, not here. 

Oh no. 

Ah.

Oops.

Rogue looks around. She’s alone, in a subway that looks familiar only in the way that all subways are. But from the texts and the little monsters (Pokemon) drawn on the signs she knows for certain that it’s no New York Subway. 

“Where did Miz Elesa go?” she asks of the little Sneasel at her side. 

Nugget tilts her head to the side in confusion, the conductor hat on her head threatening to fall off with the motion. 

Knight, not wanting to be left out, taps at her leg with a long thin bladed arm. Not enough to hurt, or tear any cloth, just enough to let Rogue know she’s there too. And also clueless, by the shake of the head she gives. 

“...I think we took a wrong turn,” Rogue admits quietly. 

The two pokemon don’t judge her, thankfully, instead looking at the surroundings for themselves. Trying just as hard as Rogue to figure out where to go next. 

Hard when all the tunnels look the same and she can’t see any signs that she can understand. 

Her gloved fingers curl up into fists. 

One day, she will know this place. Nugget clearly loves it, as do Misters Ingo and Emmet who gave her gloves and Nugget in the first place. 

They care so she wants to care too. In a way she hasn’t been able to in a long long time. Forever, it feels like. 

She’ll figure this out, she promises. 

A low growl. From a dark corner ahead. 

Rogue freezes, eyes widening. 

Sounds like it’s coming from a big animal. A pokemon, maybe. 

Careful. 

Knight tenses, blades glistening. Sharpening. Preparing for a fight. Just as much as Rogue herself is. 

On the other side, with Nugget, she gets the opposite response. 

Nugget perks up. Chirps out an invitation to-